Atonement
by usa123
Summary: James Mason returns to exact revenge on the cocky Baltimore cop & crusty NCIS agent who arrested him.  Can Tony and Gibbs outsmart Mason a second time? Or will the MCRT need two new members? No slash/ships. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Standard Disclaimer:** I own nothing. :(

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_A few days earlier…_

Something was wrong. Tony couldn't exactly put his finger on it, but something was out of place. He walked into his apartment, alone, expertly balancing his favorite pizza (sausage, pepperoni and extra cheese) in one hand. He glanced around the room, looking for signs that someone else had been here. His possessions in his living room were pretty much where he had left them, _but_…he could have sworn he had left _Magnum, P.I. _on top of the DVD player and not on his coffee table.

He dropped his dinner on the coffee table and pulled his gun, pointing the barrel to the floor. He crept along the wall, peeking into each room of his apartment before throwing himself through the doorway, gun trained at whatever he may have found. One by one he cleared his bachelor pad of a living room—complete with the black, plush leather sofa and 56" HD television flanked by two enormous bookcases stuffed full of DVD—his kitchen, his bathroom and his tiny guest bedroom. His bedroom was the last room in the apartment that he had not checked: if someone was here, this is where he (or she) would be. He stood silently outside the door, his back pressed firmly against the wall. With a deep breath, he gently turned the knob and sprang into the room…Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada. He cautiously crept across the room and yanked open the closet door, relieved to discover that his Armani suits were still neatly hung up, miscellaneous Italian dress shirts still impeccably folded, and Zegna shoes still neatly arranged of the floor. The last time he thought someone had broken in, he discovered his closet was full of dog crap, a gift from a lovely ex after their permanent breakup. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Tony thumbed the safety and reholstered his gun, heading back to the front room.

A sharp ringing resounded through the small apartment, startled him into drawing his weapon again. He almost Gibbs-slapped himself when he realized it was just the phone. He sprinted across the room and snatched up the handset.

"This is an esteemed employee of Northwestern Bank. Are you Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Mr. DiNozzo is no longer with us: he was kidnapped by Papa Smurf," Tony snapped before throwing the phone back into its cradle.

Sighing heavily, he turned back to his apartment, unable to shake the feeling that someone had been there earlier. He quickly inspected the most obvious places to hide a bug, though he had no idea why someone would want to plant such an item here. He _was_ Tony DiNozzo, a celebrity of sorts, but he hardly spent time in the apartment. Bugging his office, or even Gibbs' house, would be a much better choice. A smile ghosted across his lips as he imagined someone bugging Gibbs' house; it'd probably be safer to be locked in a cage with a hungry tiger or to climb Mount Everest without rigging equipment than it would be to intrude on Gibbs' private property and incur his wrath.

Unable finding any listening devices, he walked back to the front door, still grinning widely. He crouched in front of the lock and checked it for the telltale scrapes of a lock pick. After a few moments of careful inspection, he found no obvious marks around the keyhole and no sticky residue on the door jamb, meaning the alleged perp was either a professional lock-pick or he was invisible, which meant that Tony was going crazy.

He took several deep breaths in an attempt to calm his sixth sense, crediting the sensation to the last case they had been working. It was literally a carbon copy of the movie _Eagle Eye. _Some computer geek had hacked the Navy and was able to temporarily control the satellites and the security cameras. He had been arrested and was facing five to ten, but it was most likely he'd get out in two and be indebted to NCIS, forced to use his knowledge to better their security protocol. Sometimes the justice system sucked.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled as he stood up. He quickly glanced left and right, but he was the sole occupant of the hallway. He listened hard and couldn't even hear receding footsteps or doors had slammed shut, indicating someone had been watching him. This was too weird. Slightly spooked—not that he would admit that to anyone else—he walked back into his apartment, plopping down in front of his television to enjoy his now lukewarm pizza while watching the _Airwolf_ episode that he had recorded. A door slammed down the hall causing him to jump slightly and reach for his gun on his side table. He swore under his breath as he fought to regain his composure. This was getting ridiculous—he was going to drive himself crazy if he kept freaking out at every little noise.

Forty-five minutes later, the pie was half gone and he still couldn't ignore that feeling that he was being watched. He finally clicked off his program, surrendering to the fact that extreme sleep-deprivation was causing his paranoia. As he got ready for bed, he walked around his apartment and checked to ensure all the doors and windows were closed and the locks were functioning.

The night hours passed slowly and uneventfully. Despite the fact that his loaded gun was in his nightstand, he couldn't relax enough to drift into sleep. He tossed and turned in an attempt to find a comfortable position that might earn him a little sleep, but every time he began to drift off, he heard a small noise that jerked him back to consciousness and had him reaching for his weapon. After that, he had counted sheep, drank some warm milk, and resigned himself to noticing patterns in his popcorn ceiling.

Around three A.M., it became clear that he wasn't getting any rest if he stayed at his apartment. Tony sighed heavily before throwing off the covers and getting ready for work. He would go to NCIS and work on paperwork until it was finished, or until boredom reigned and, hopefully, he fell asleep.

As he left his apartment, he looked over his shoulder, memorizing exactly where he had left everything. He even pulled on the door handle twice to make sure the lock was truly working. _What was wrong with him? _ If he kept this up, he'd be sent to that white padded room Inspector Dreyfus had frequented, straightjacket and all!

The drive to headquarters was one of the most stressful trips Tony had ever been on, excluding any occasion when Gibbs drove. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white and constantly checked his rear-view mirror for signs of a tail, ready to engage in the erratic escape procedures at a moments notice. All his precautions were for naught, however, since no car followed him for more than a few blocks. After twenty of some of the most stressful minutes of his life, he breathed a deep sigh of relief as he passed the security guardhouse without incident.

As he parked his vehicle, Tony felt the hair on the back of his neck rise again. He glanced wildly around the garage, looking for anything that suggested he was being watched.

"This gives new meaning to 'not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse'," he muttered to himself, unable to find anyone or anything in the lot. He sighed heavily as he shut off the engine. First he thought someone had broken into his apartment, now he was talking to himself…If he started seeing imaginary people with the likeness of Paul Bettany or spewing complex calculus equations, he'd check himself into the nearest psych ward without argument.

He took a deep breath before throwing himself out of the car, locking it in record time, and practically sprinting into the building. He shrugged off his backpack and yanked out his gun and badge, practically throwing them on the X-ray belt. The security guard snickered at his heavy breathing and slightly glistening face before passing the gear through the machine.

"Rough night?" he asked with a grin.

Tony made a face at the guard before gathering his equipment and heading for the squad room. He sighed in relief as he sat at his desk, feeling himself completely relax for the first time in the last six hours. Completely at ease and with a genuine smile on his face, he pulled out his paperwork…not that he actually completed any of it, for he fell asleep within five minutes.

* * *

Gibbs arrived at work at 0600 after grabbing his usual cup of coffee and having a short chat with his favorite red-headed barista. He walked into the squad room, surprised to find Tony sleeping at his desk, his head resting on a massive pile of paperwork. He debated whether to wake the Italian but decided to let him sleep for a few more minutes; it had been a long week for all of them. He flipped through the pile of mail on his desk, observing the invitation to the Marine's Ball, the thank you letter from the Marine whose life they had saved a few days ago, and a plain white envelope with his name printed on it in block letters. He picked up the letter and was sliding his finger under the flap when the phone rang. He was forced to put down the envelope in order to write down the address the dispatcher was reciting. He tore off the Post-It and grabbed his backpack before heading back to the elevator. The unopened mail remained on his desk, temporarily forgotten.

"DiNozzo!"

"'M up, boss!" Tony separated his head from the file folders in front of him.

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs questioned, running an eye over his agent's severely disheveled appearance.

"The heater broke in my apartment at 2:00. It wasn't worth calling any of you guys, so I just got ready and came here," Tony shrugged. He wasn't about to let anyone know how he'd been spooked by…absolutely nothing. That'd be _way_ too embarrassing.

"Grab your gear. We've got a body."

Of course they did. Tony hoisted his backpack, glad to retaining some sense of normalcy in his crazy life. As he left the squad room, he swore he felt someone's eyes on him. He shot one last look over his shoulder, meeting the gaze of the newest intern, who hurriedly looked away, as if afraid of the senior agent. _Get a grip, Anthony!_ he mentally chided himself as the elevator doors closed. _If you keep this up, you're going to be the most feared man in the department. Wait…make that second most feared, Gibbs still reigned in that category._

From across town, a man sat in front of a wall of computer screens, observing the conversation in the squad room. He leaned forward eagerly when Gibbs picked up the note, frowning and swearing when the Lead Agent abandoned the envelope for his backpack. He steepled his fingers, a wide grin coming to his face as he watched Detective DiNozzo shoot a final glance over his shoulder. This was only the beginning of his dastardly plan and DiNozzo was _already_ exhibiting symptoms of full-blown paranoia.

_This was going to be way too easy…_

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_Reviews are the Caf-Pow! to my Abby, the sawdust to my Gibbs, the computers to my McGee, the toothpicks to my Vance, the English tea to my Ducky, the weapons collection to my Ziva, and the Armani suit and Zegna shoes to my Tony! :)_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thanks to all those who reviewed, favorited, alerted, etc. Your support from this story is absolutely unbelievable!_

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_Present day…_

"To a job well done!" Ducky held up his brandy glass, motioning for the rest of the team to do so as well. It was the end of a rather long, rather gruesome murder that had had Team Gibbs working at all hours of the night. Only this afternoon, an unexpected witness had finally come forward with enough evidence to arrest the killer and Ducky had insisted that the team celebrate having a pint at his favorite pub.

"Cheers!" The team lifted their glasses and clinked them together.

The celebration continued long into the night, full of Ducky's stories, Palmer's interruptions, Ziva's misinterpretations of idioms, and McGee's corrections. Even Gibbs participated by throwing in the occasional anecdote.

Sometime after the second round, Tony realized he was having a hard time concentrating on the conversations. He was hearing the words but they weren't resonating. He found himself staying uncharacteristically silent, forced to concentrate on just staying awake.

"Remember that, Tony?" McGee asked, bringing Tony around for the third time.

"Yeah, McGeek. I do." Tony replied, even though he had no idea what McGee was talking about. He apparently had faded away from the conversation yet again.

This was getting weirder and weirder. He felt completely wasted, but had only had two drinks. The same guy who could guzzle a beer in under six seconds in Panama City _and_ who could keep up with the Japanese ambassadors in shots was completely sauced a few years later after just two beers? Yeah, something was up.

He raised a hand to wipe his sweaty brow. Damn, it was hot in here. Why didn't they open a window? It was plenty cold outside, he griped as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.

His stomach started to ache, reminding Tony how long it had been since he had eaten last. He'd been forced to eat his emergency Snickers bar in his desk drawer en route to nabbing the killer and hadn't had time for lunch. He grabbed the nearby menu and inspected it but nothing looked appetizing.

God, he really felt terrible. Just keeping his eyes open was draining all his remaining energy and he had long since lost track of what Ducky was saying—something about crochet and cricket and other English sports.

He hoped he wasn't getting sick since he _hated_ being sick more than Indiana Jones hated snakes, more than James Bond hated stirred martinis and more than Magnum hated Higgins when the Brit halved his rubber chicken. Besides the lethargy, the nose blowing, the coughing, the aches—as if those weren't bad enough—he would be forced to sit at home while his team worked without him…Speaking of home, maybe he'd better leave, take a hot shower, maybe eat some soup and go straight to bed. Hopefully, that would counter whatever this was and he'd be fine by Monday.

Tony went to get up and almost fell off the swiveling bar stool as the world spun wildly around him. He caught the bar, reoriented himself and straightened up. He focused his vision and caught Gibbs staring at him.

"I'm fine," he muttered to Gibbs' unspoken question. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and managed to arrive at the car without tripping. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, pulling them out with stiff, unresponsive fingers. The world was blurring quickly and he could hardly tell one key from the other. He fiddled with the ring, trying to locate his car key while debating whether he should go back in and ask one of his teammates for a ride. Nah, that'd be too embarrassing; he was Anthony DiNozzo, and, as he'd been reminded by his father from a very young age, DiNozzo's held their liquor and they did not pass out.

After what seemed like an eternity, Tony located the correct key. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and spun around, dropping his key ring in the process. He glared at the intruder who had undone five minutes of his hard work in a split second.

"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"I'll live," Tony muttered, bending down to pick up his keys.

He suddenly regretted not eating anything in the bar as the ache in his stomach had increased in intensity. His vision swirled as he bent over, forcing him to grab the side window to keep from collapsing.

Still tightly holding the car door, he reached for his keys, but they were snatched up before he could grab them. Tony glared again at Gibbs.

"Keys?" he asked, holding out his hand.

Gibbs shook his head disapprovingly. "How many did you have, DiNozzo?"

"Two. It's not that…I think I'm getting sick," Tony admitted. Wait! Had he just said that to Gibbs? What was wrong with him? He never outwardly confessed that type of feelings, not even to his boss. _Especially_ not to his boss.

Gibbs didn't answer immediately, a thoughtful expression on his face as he contemplated what his agent had just told him. "I'll drive you home," Gibbs said gruffly, deftly locating the correct key and starting the engine.

Tony stumbled around to the passenger's side, yanking weakly on the door handle until Gibbs reached over and opened the door for him.

"Thanks boss," Tony said, clumsily arranging himself in the seat.

"You sure you're good?" Gibbs clarified, pulling the car out of the pub, noticing the slightly green pallor to Tony's skin.

"Never better," Tony mumbled as he closed his eyes, concentrating on not doing something stupid like retching in his car or his newly purchased hand-stitched Italian shoes.

"Tony," the Senior Field Agent heard through his dreams, feeling Gibbs gently shaking his shoulder. "You'll stay at my place tonight, especially considering your heater is broken and all," Gibbs added with a tone that revealed he hadn't believed Tony's lie from earlier that week. Tony's muddled brain tried comprehend what had just happened. _No way, they were at Gibbs' already!_ _They had only left the bar a second ago, and even Gibbs didn't drive that fast!_ He stopped trying to process the situation and gasped for breath as the throbbing ache in his stomach chose that moment to return at full force.

"DiNozzo!" Tony heard the concern etched in Gibbs' voice. "Tell me what's wrong. And if the words 'nothing' or 'I'm fine' come outta your mouth, I'll have you on desk duty so fast your head will spin."

"Stomach," Tony managed as the throbbing ache intensified. _Dammit! _There he was again, telling his boss much more than usual. It wasn't as if he'd been injected with a truth serum again, which had forced him to answer the given questions, but he found himself in a similar situation, unable to keep quiet or lie to anyone.

Tony felt his head loll to one side, his neck suddenly boneless. "DiNozzo! Stay with me!" he heard Gibbs call, but his boss' voice was waxing and waning like cellular reception in Rock Creek Park.

_On it, boss_, Tony thought, unable to find the energy to make his mouth move.

"The ambulance is on its way," he heard Gibbs say. "Just hold on for a few more minutes, okay? Ya hear me, DiNozzo? Just stay still and try not to do anymore damage."

_Ambulance?_ Tony thought fuzzily. Not if he could help it! He was _not _going to the hospital for some stupid stomach bug! Tony gathered his remaining energy and threw himself into the door, managing to force it open. He heard Gibbs release a string of Marine-worthy swear words as he hauled himself out of the car, gripping the top of the door so tightly his knuckles turned white.

A knifing pain replaced the intense throbbing in his stomach and Tony lost control of his body. He felt himself falling backwards. He could hear the world moving around him, but was unable to distinguish anything over the loud buzz that filled his ears. He was vaguely aware of someone catching him and lowering him to the ground.

As his grasp on reality faded, he felt someone grab his wrist as if feeling for a pulse. Even in his current state, he thought that was strange—he knew his heart was still pumping since he could feel it pounding wildly in his chest. He felt someone shaking him, but it felt disjointed, as if he was watching Gibbs shake someone else.

Suddenly, there was a sharp stinging sensation in his cheek, the shock and surprise flooded adrenaline through his system and brought Tony back to consciousness for a second. His eyes flew open as he heard a strangled cry. Oh God! Was Gibbs hurt as well? Tony hadn't thought to ask before now…In his defense, he _had_ had other things on his mind. He squinted at Gibbs who kneeling over him, mouth closed. _Damn! That noise was coming from him!. _He forced his mouth shut and took a quick inventory of his system. His cheek was quickly growing warm and tingling crazily, allowing the pain in his gut to temporarily subside. That could only mean one thing: Gibbs had just slapped him. In the face. _Wasn't there a rule against that or something?_ he thought as he mustered the strength to speak.

"Whaz…'hat 'or?" he slurred hazily.

"Ya stopped breathing," Gibbs leaned back on his heels, a relieved expression on his face.

Tony was unable to speak again for the sheer effort of remaining conscious was quickly sapping his energy reserves. The adrenaline that had momentarily rushed his body was draining as fast as it had come despite the knifing pain in his stomach returning to its full strength. He compensated by raising his eyebrows to ask his unspoken question.

Gibbs nodded affirmatively.

Tony closed his eyes again, focusing on inhaling and exhaling. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. In with the good air, out with the bad. In with the good air…out…with….the…bad…

He woke up with an incredibly bright light overhead. He could hardly open his eyes, squinting in order to make out a dark shape drifting in front of the pseudo-sun. They were driving over an incredibly bumpy road and he felt himself being bounced up and down as they sped to the hospital.

"Agent DiNozzo? Tony! Stay with us!" a kind female voice ordered him. Tony managed to nod his head once before losing consciousness once again.

He woke again in semidarkness. The door to the hallway was partially open, allowing soft light to shine into the room. He tried to move his hand in front of face to shield his eyes from the light, but was forced to stop when he felt the tug of an IV in his hand. Dammit! He was in the hospital. What the hell was he doing there?

He heard a chair screeching against the linoleum and saw a blurry figure leaning over him.

"Gibbs?" Tony gasped.

The person laughed. "I am not Agent Gibbs."

Tony fought to focus his vision with inexplicable urgency. He recognized that voice, but his fuzzy mind prevented him from recalling the intruder's name. His vision finally cleared and he saw the dark, shifty eyes, the pinched features and the long stringy hair. He was fully awake as a name floated through the fog. Shit, he was in deep trouble.

"Do I finally have your attention, Detective DiNozzo?" the man crooned, pulling out a needle. Tony struggled to keep the syringe away from his person but, in his weakened state, he was ineffective. The man injected something into Tony's IV and darkness started to cloud his vision once again.

"Give me a call when you wake—we've got so much to talk about." That was the last thing Tony heard. The face of James Mason swirled in front of his face before Tony succumbed to the drugs and the world faded to blackness.

* * *

Tony's drug-induced dreams were fitful and discombobulated, revolving mainly around his first, and only, joint investigation with NCIS ten years ago.

_It was August 25__th__. James Mason and his gang were suspected of robbing the United Bank of Baltimore. In the process, a gun had discharged and a Marine, who had been setting up a joint bank account with his new wife, had been shot. He was sent to the hospital immediately where he made a full recovery. The Marine, unfortunately, was a friend of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS, and had called in a boatload of favors to have Gibbs assigned to the case._

_Gibbs had made Tony's life a living hell the entire week he had been staying in Baltimore. He appeared out of nowhere, shocking the young detective within inches of his life on many occasions. Gibbs also failed to share information unless directly ordered to by one Director Morrow, who Tony had decided must be a pretty important guy if he could order this Gibbs around. To his credit, Tony took none of this fed's crap, standing up to the man in what must have been a world first, if the expressions on Blackadder's and Burley's faces had anything to do with it. _

_The last occasion of such bravado earned him a hard smack to the back of his head._

"_What the _hell_ was that for?" Tony spat, his hands reflexively forming fists in his jacket pocket, shooting daggers at the NCIS agent._

"_You were out of line," Gibbs stated, turning his back on the Baltimore cop._

_Tony stood stock-still, his mouth opening and closing in anger, but no words escaped his lips. He shook his head in disbelief, sprinting to catch up to the fed._

_He grabbed Gibbs by the arm and swung him around, prepared to give the fed verbal reprimand. But the fed had other plans: he grabbed Tony's arm and used his momentum to flip him to the floor without breaking stride._

"_I'd check out that security camera once again," Gibbs called over his shoulder. "You missed something."_

_Mike Kenzie appeared in Tony's vision._

"_You okay, pardner?" he drawled, holding out a hand to help up Tony. "You can report him, you know."_

"_Nah," Tony replied, dusting himself off, "he was right. I crossed the line, but no one's ever called me on it before…" Tony followed Gibbs' retreating form for another minute with a mix of surprise and amusement on his face before shifting his gaze back to Kenzie._

"_We'd better go check out that security footage. Apparently…we missed something." _

_At the end of a very long week, they had been able to link Mason's team to the crime with only circumstantial evidence. Then Gibbs got the phone call from one Abby Scuito, who sounded like an amazing person to meet, in Tony's opinion. He hoped another joint investigation would come along and he'd have the pleasure of meeting the person behind the incredibly sexy voice. She had 'humpty-dumptied' (her words, not his) the ruined camera film into usable footage. This was grounds enough to get the members of Mason's team arrested. Mason unfortunately had not appeared on any footage and his goons had no idea where he currently was. The safe house at which they were supposed to regroup had been seized and searched with no further evidence linking Mason to the crime._

_About ten thousand dollars had been taken, as well as the contents of six safety deposit boxes. Mason had disappeared with it all…so NCIS and BPD thought. Team Gibbs returned to Washington, D.C. and Tony and Kenzie were assigned additional cases, Mason's file buried under a mound of more pressing, less elusive suspects._

_One week later, their luck changed. Mason was picked up by a random traffic search for another high profile case as he left Baltimore. According to the report, another woman had been in the car with Mason, and had not said a word during the entire car search. A suspicious box was spotted in the back of the car, but when the cop asked about it, Mason had sped away, almost running over another BPD cop in the process. Within minutes, all the Baltimore cops were aware of the situation, Tony and Kenzie were reassigned the lead on the seemingly dead case._

_They had sped out of the station in hot pursuit of Mason's SUV, Tony skillfully navigating the freeway traffic, his siren blaring. Kenzie announced their presence over the bullhorn and commanded Mason to stop. Kenzie also called Gibbs, who had been headed back to Baltimore for the latest news. The NCIS sedan was tailing Tony's Crown Vic within minutes, making Tony wonder just how fast the fed was driving. Mason hadn't listened to Kenzie, cutting off two Hummers while exiting the freeway from the HOV lane. The light at the end of the off-ramp was red, but Mason either didn't notice or didn't care. He blew right through the intersection, crashing into the corner lamppost to avoid being hit by a car. Kenzie observed the accident, calling the paramedics immediately while Tony and Gibbs struggled to exit the freeway safely. _

_By the time they got to the scene, Mason and his girlfriend had gotten out of the car. The girlfriend was screaming at Mason, and stepped into the street to begin her getaway. She never saw the oncoming car. As if in a horror movie, her body flew up into the air, landing on the tarmac with a sickening crash. Mason stared open-mouthed at the scene that unfolded in front of him before sprinting over to his girlfriend, cradling her head in his arms. He looked up to the sky, and screamed obscenities at the person who had allowed this to happen to his Helen. Gibbs trained his gun on the two, while Kenzie and Tony fanned out, surrounding the hapless criminal. The driver had stopped immediately when he had hit Helen and huddled against the nearest building, whimpering about how she just jumped in front of him and how he tried to avoid her._

_Mason appeared to be physically fine, bleeding only from a cut above his forehead. As Kenzie pulled him to his feet, Tony carefully lowered Helen back on the ground and began CPR for a few moments before reaching out two fingers and gently closed Helen's eyelids. Mason looked at Tony with true horror and disgust on his features. He squinted in an attempt to read Tony's nametag through the blood that was impeding his vision._

"_You will pay for this Detective DiNozzo," Mason hissed as Kenzie tightened the cuffs. "You, your partner, and that fellow over there," he thrust his head at Gibbs. "You're all going to pay. I'll be back eventually, and you'd better have someone watching your back when I do, 'cause you're going to need all the help you can get."_

"_Shut it Mason," Kenzie spat as he escorted Mason to the squad car, sirens sounding in the distance._

"_I am going to take everything you love away from you, and you won't be able to do anything about it. You will fail to save those you care about," Mason screamed as Kenzie slammed the door closed. "I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!"_

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_Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated!_


	3. Chapter 3

"Thanks for nothing." Gibbs slammed his cellular phone closed, tempted to throw the device into the nearest wall of the hospital waiting room. As he raised his arm, he noticed a stunned toddler staring at him, mouth open in shock. He slowly lowered his hand and removed the angry expression from his face.

"Make sure you hire good people to work with when you're older," Gibbs advised the wide-eyed child, who nodded before sprinting for her parents.

_I need more coffee…_Gibbs thought, scrubbing his hands over his face. Was it not bad enough that he had been getting these stupid letters in the mail? Now, Tony was in the hospital? Considering he didn't believe in coincidences, something was…hinky, as Abby would say. Speaking of the Goth, he pulled out his phone and dialed the lab on the way to the cafeteria.

"Gibbs, I am overworked and underpaid. I don't need an assistant, 'cause we all know that didn't work out so well last time, but I need someone who knows the Law of Abby and can push my soldiers like only I can—"

"Abs," Gibbs interrupted.

"A clone! That's a great idea—that way we can help Tony twice as fast! But we're only going to clone me 'cause you know what happens when clones clone themselves…well, maybe you don't, but those of us who actually make it to the theater more than once a year—"

"AB-BY!"

"Gibbs! I know what you're going to say, so don't, but I can't help it—I'm going Section Eight in here! It's been eight hours and my babies have nothing! They haven't dinged all morning! They know this is important, and that we have to help Tony, but they are choosing to take their sweet time…How's Tony doing? He's going to be alright, right, Gibbs? I mean, he's Tony! He survived everything—he's got more lives that a cat! Oh God, Gibbs! Tell me he'll be okay…"

"He's still unconscious. They pumped his stomach last night and sent the contents to the lab for analysis. He's on mild painkillers which should make his first few conversations pretty interesting…" Gibbs could hear Abby grinning over the line despite the dire situation. "Haven't been able to locate the doctor yet to give me an update."

"Call me when he wakes up. I want to be there when he comes around..." She stopped as a faint ding sounded.

"You got something?" As soon as Tony had collapsed, Gibbs had had Abby collect all the remaining drinks at the pub and take them to her lab for analysis.

The death metal which had been blaring over the line and was disrupting Abby's speech suddenly stopped and there was complete silence on the line.

"Abby?" Gibbs questioned, his impatience replaced by genuine concern.

"Gibbs," Abby's usually bubbly voice was low and emotionless.

"What's wrong Abs?"

"Tony's drink was spiked with nerium oleander—there was enough of it in his beer to kill a Clydesdale. It's the most deadly poison on earth Gibbs! Just, like, ten leaves will kill you almost instantly! He's lucky he didn't finish the entire bottle…"

"Thanks Abs," Gibbs sighed, his stomach clenching as he digested the news. He pulled the phone away from his ear in an attempt to hang up.

"Oh, Gibbs. That's not all. Your drink was drugged as well. You're lucky you didn't get a chance to drink yours…" her voice took on a suspicious note, "why _didn't_ you finish your drink, anyway?"

Gibbs contemplated the previous night before responding. "The tap was broken and the bartender had to call someone to fix it. By the time it came, DiNozzo had already left."

"Jeez, Gibbs. You'd better send your guardian angel a thank you card and maybe convince him or her to help watch Tony's six on occasion. Our favorite Italian could use all the help he could get…"

"That all, Abs?"

"Nope. I got some good news. No one else's drink was poisoned. Just yours and Tony's," Abby continued.

"Lucky us," Gibbs muttered, but Abby was not paying attention.

"But I have some bad news too: there are absolutely no identifying marks on the letters you gave me earlier this week. I can tell you the font and the dimensions of the paper, but that's it! There isn't even a watermark in the paper that I could trace! It's completely standard and could be picked up from any stationary store! We caught a _small_—I mean, we're talking miniscule—break though: it _was_ postmarked here in D.C. I gave the postal code to McGee and maybe he can pick up something from the security footage...Tony is going to be okay, right, Gibbs? I mean, this is nothing compared to the plague, and he survived that, but he didn't come to work for weeks on end and it was _really_ lonely without him…"

"Agent Gibbs!" Gibbs whirled around, seeing a petite nurse standing directly behind him. "The doctor is looking for you."

"Call you later, Abs," Gibbs hung up the line, following the nurse back to the waiting room.

"Agent Gibbs. I'm Doctor Damon and am in charge of treating your friend." The doctor held out his hand to Gibbs.

"Doctor," Gibbs nodded curtly. "How's Di—How's Tony?"

"Mr. DiNozzo ingested a small amount of nerium oleander, one of the deadliest poisons on the planet. He is extremely lucky he remained conscious for as long as he did. He will need a few days rest, other than that, he should make a full recovery; we pumped his stomach just in time."

Gibbs let out the breath he had unconsciously been holding. "Thank you Doctor. When can I see him?"

"He's coming around as we speak. Room 301. I have a suspicion you know your way around this place, if Agent DiNozzo's medical records are any indication."

"Thank you, Doctor," Gibbs repeated, heading to Tony's room and taking his usual seat next to Tony's bed. He watched the steady rise and fall of his agent's chest, taking comfort in the fact that Tony was still breathing.

That bastard that had tried to tried to poison them was going to pay.

* * *

The bright sun on Tony's face slowly brought him back to consciousness. Even before he opened his eyes, something felt…hinky. He had this nagging sensation, not dissimilar to the one he had felt a few days ago. The busy week had limited his time at home, meaning as the days got longer and the case got more confusing, the paranoia had drifted to the recesses of his mind. He had no longer felt the prickling sensation on the back of his neck whenever he was alone, and he'd hoped that meant that this whole mess was completely over…Apparently, he'd been wrong since that annoying feeling had just returned at full strength.

He opened his eyes to see the unfamiliar, completely sterile room that he knew was _definitely_ not his apartment: he was not, nor would he ever be, a fan of the floral curtains which hung beside the window. He focused on his last memory: the bar, his keys, the almost instantaneous drive home, how he apparently had stopped breathing, and finally waking up in the ambulance.

Tony raised his head slightly to see his boss sitting forward in his customary chair, his elbows on his knees, staring silently at his agent.

"Were you watching me sleep, boss?" Tony rasped as he rested his head again on the incredibly uncomfortable pillow. "'Cause the last person who did that tried to slit my throat."

"How ya doing DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked seriously, while reclining back in his chair. He was relieved to see Tony's gallows humor was still in tact; his small quip, which was meant to divert attention from his current situation, reassured Gibbs that Tony was truly fine more than anything Doctor Damon could ever say. Plus, Tony was on painkillers, so Gibbs knew Tony's occasionally tactless wit would be even worse than usual. Despite the unfortunate circumstances in which they found themselves, Gibbs decided to respond sarcastically, giving Tony his desired response. "And no bullshit this time. I can read you like a book…not that it's a very interesting read."

Tony looked wounded for a moment before addressing Gibbs. "That hurts, boss. I stop breathing and you're cracking jokes about my life…Anyway, I know it's 'cos you care, not that you'd ever admit it…but that's beside the point," he added hurriedly as Gibbs fixed him with a steely glare. "Right, back to me. Well, I could say 'every day in every way I'm getting better and better', but I have a feeling that'd just piss you off," Tony grinned widely, vainly attempting to shake off that feeling that something was amiss. Just to reassure his subconscious, he glanced around the room, noting that he and Gibbs were its only occupants.

Temporarily satisfied, he returned his gaze to Gibbs who had a look of perpetual confusion on his face.

"_Oh c'mon_, Gibbs! You should have at least understood that reference! It was your era!"

"And what exactly is my 'era', DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, quirking an eyebrow. Yep, Tony was going to make a full recovery; even under the influence of strong painkillers after being drugged with the oleander plant, Tony was making obscure movie references.

"I'm not saying you're old boss, 'cause you're not, but—" Tony stopped mid-sentence, all the blood draining from his face as the events of his midnight visit hit him like a Gibbs-slap. Gibbs straightened up and reached for the red Call button.

"No, boss," Tony batted Gibbs' hand away from the button, trying to remove the horrified expression from his features. Tony proceeded to recount his visit from Mason to Gibbs who was completely lost in thought even after Tony stopped speaking.

"Boss, I know I'm on something, probably something strong, but believe me! I know he was here. I have a feeling he checked out my apartment earlier this week too; I had this hinky feeling but I didn't want to say anything about it, that's why I stayed at the office earlier this week. Seriously though, I'm perfectly fine now…Are you listening to me?" Tony turned to face Gibbs who hadn't said a word.

"I got a note, plain envelope, postmarked from D.C., with two words on it: 'I'm back'," Gibbs confessed, failing to acknowledge Tony's monologue.

Tony stared silently at Gibbs, miffed that his boss hadn't trusted him enough to tell him about letter. But then again, when did Gibbs tell him anything important? He had a plethora of examples sitting on the tip of his tongue: the Ari Haswari fiasco, the Bill Atlas incident, the Mike Granger debacle, the Maddie Tyler situation, etc, etc, etc. Each time, Gibbs had run off without informing the team of his plans, and none of them had ended pleasantly. With a deep sigh to collect himself, Tony forced those feelings away and replaced his blank expression. "And you were going to tell us about that…when, exactly?"

"Never. Didn't think they were serious. I sent it to Abby for evaluation as per SOP and forgot all about it. Then you got sick and…" Gibbs stopped, unable to finish his sentence. The words _I was wrong _just didn't roll easily off his tongue.

"I was _what? _When? How? It would have to have been at the bar, but I watching the incredibly attractive bartender the whole time 'cos last time I failed to watch a bartender open a drink, I woke up in the sewer…" Tony stared at Gibbs in disbelief, his mouth running automatically while he processed the new information. "And you don't forget anything. You even remembered the time when I first stayed over at your house and I—"

"D'ya want a head slap DiNozzo? 'Cause you're heading for one full force." Gibbs decided that that was enough joking and asinine comments. Painkillers or not, it was time for Tony to cowboy up and face the problem seriously.

"What are you going to do?" Tony asked quietly.

"Everything I can," Gibbs got up to leave. Tony flung off his sheet, ready to follow his boss. "No, not you. You're staying here," Gibbs turned around, putting his hands on Tony's shoulders and pushing his agent back into his bed. "If you get out of the bed while I'm around, I'll shoot you myself. And when I'm not here, there'll be an armed guard outside your door with orders to incapacitate anyone who fits your description that tries to leave."

"No way, boss," Tony struggled against Gibbs' firm grip. "You're not going without me! Who's going to watch your six?"

"I watched my own six long before you came along," Gibbs replied, flinging open the door and leaving.

The massive security guard, who should aptly be nicknamed Muscles, turned around from his post outside the door and had the gall to wave at Tony. "I'll be here all night," he growled, before about-facing and standing at attention.

Tony threw up his hands in frustration, yelping as the IV made its presence known again. _Damn you Gibbs._ He had the same helpless feeling when Gibbs had went undercover as the Gunnery Sergeant Alvin Thomas and had 'thought his vest was visible' thus failing to wear it. And there was the time when Gibbs went to visit Ari Haswari who had tried to blow him up. And then Gibbs had helped Lee all by his lonesome. Why couldn't Gibbs stop being the Lone Ranger and learn to trust his team, _especially_ those who had worked with him for a decade? Even Batman lowered his guard in the Batcave with Alfred around!

His heart monitor starting shrieking as Tony's heart rate increased, a by-product of his frustration and anger. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself, putting down his hands and releasing his balled-up fists. As the heart monitor quieted, a small object fell from his left hand and landed on his sheet. Tony picked it up with two fingers and inspected it. It was a small gold band inlaid with a decently-sized diamond. He had seen this ring before…ten years ago.

_Tony pulled the last evidence bag out of the bin from the Mason case. It was a tiny engagement ring belonging to Helen Jacobs, soon to be Helen Mason before the accident. He took the ring out of the bag and examined it, noting the fine engraving on the inner band: "Helen, you are my everything." Mason was apparently quite the romantic._

_He sighed heavily and put the ring back into the bag. He browsed through the autopsy report on Helen locating the number for the next of kin. He hated informing the next of kin—the conversation was filled with weepy women and touching nostalgia about the deceased. He usually left this job for his partner Kenzie, but Kenzie had had a mandatory doctor's appointment today, damn him. He exhaled heavily before picking up the phone and dialing the number._

Screw his orders; he was going with his boss. But first, he needed clothes. Looking around for his possessions, he groaned loudly as he spotted them across the room.

He freed himself from the heart monitor and oxygen monitor before pulling out his IV, grimacing as the alarm sounded. He swung his legs off the bed and stood shakily, knowing he only had a few moments before the nursing staff swarmed his room. He stumbled to the wall, grabbing the bundle of clothes and the cell phone, undeterred by the squeak of the door and approaching march that could only belong to one person.

"DiNozzo, what the hell are you doing? You wanna add another bullet hole to your collection?" Gibbs boomed, his face a new shade of red.

"Argument with Vance?" Tony asked sarcastically while attempting to pull on his pants without exposing more skin that absolutely necessary, an almost impossible task thanks to the gaping back of his hospital gown.

"Something like that," Gibbs couldn't help grinning at Tony's clumsy attempt to clothe himself before immediately turning serious. "You're supposed to be in bed."

"And you're 'sposed to be finding Mason without me. Which brings us back to the beginning: I'm not lying in bed while you—" Tony started before he spied a doctor standing behind Gibbs. "What's he want?"

"I'm Doctor Damon. And I must ask you to get back in bed," the doctor ordered, pulling back the sheet. Tony opened his mouth to protest.

"Not a suggestion, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"Getting back in bed, boss," Tony replied dutifully, grabbing his clothes and flopping back onto the hard rock that was doubling as a mattress.

"You'll need to stay for a few more hours for observation. Fortunately, you ingested a low dose of the oleander, so there will be no permanent damage. There will be temporary weakness and some typical lethargy until the poison works its way out of your system completely," he recited, flipping through the file. "Oh, this was left in your file. Some gentleman asked me to give it to you when you regained consciousness."

The doctor produced a small sheet of paper and handed it to Tony. The only thing written on the sheet was a phone number. By the time Tony had looked up, the doctor had mysteriously vanished, somehow without jarring the door which was only open a crack.

"You sure he's real, boss? He's freaking me out disappearing like that…" Tony commented as he turned on his phone. "Are you sure I can't leave? I mean, I've been in much worse scrapes than this and still returned to work. Just remember what would have happened if I hadn't come back to work after the plague one week earlier than I did: you wouldn't have McGee on your team anymore." _Kate either, not that that mattered much. _Tony thought, pausing for a moment to silently remembering his teammate. Beneath the strict, obedient, no-nonsense attitude, Kate was kind, honest and an excellent cook. As much as he enjoyed Ziva's company, no one could or would ever replace Caitlin Todd. Gibbs was equally silent, remembering the two years he was privileged to work with the Secret Service agent.

Gibbs continued after a moment, only answering Tony's first question, burying his feelings about Kate under the stoic mask he had worked so hard to construct. "He just tried to kill you. The safest place for you is here, especially with Officer Bryant outside your door. Metro's working the case under the stipulation that they keep us informed of all new evidence."

"He tried to kill you too, boss," Tony grumbled, but the look on Gibbs' face left no room for argument. "What are we supposed to do here?"

"Gee, DiNozzo, I don't know. Maybe we could call the number Mason was kind enough to leave," Gibbs suggested, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Right, boss. Stupid question. Next head-slap's on me." Tony responded while dialing the mystery number.

"Detective DiNozzo. Agent Gibbs," a gleeful voice taunted over the line. "Did you miss me?"

"Not really," Tony replied dryly. "What could you possibly want?"

"I want to know how you're feeling. I am glad they got your stomach pumped in time; our future activities would be no fun without your participation. I take it you found Helen's ring," Gibbs looked questioningly at Tony, who shrugged before producing the ring.

"Yep."

"Conversations over the phone are so…impersonal. Let's meet."

"Let's not," Tony responded smartly.

"Tsk, tsk, Detective DiNozzo—"

"It's _Special Agent _DiNozzo, now—I got promoted. Come down here and I'll show you my badge. We could catch up on the past ten years…"

"Glad to see you're the same overrated, smart-ass cop who killed my girlfriend ten years ago—"

"I didn't run her down," Tony interrupted.

"But you began the chain of events that led to her death. If you'd just let the case go, admitted I was better than you, she'd still be alive. You took away someone very important to me. But we'll have this conversation in person. Meet at the Red Line—"

"What's to stop us from sending Metro to arrest you this instant?" Tony questioned.

There was static as Mason pulled away from the phone. Tony and Gibbs heard sounds of struggle.

"DiNozzo?"

"Mike?" Tony was stunned to hear his former partner's voice crackling over the phone. "You okay?"

Kenzie didn't answer and there were more dragging sounds that decreased in volume until the line was completely silent.

"You didn't think I forgot about you, Agent Gibbs?" Mason returned, panting heavily but still managing to sound gleeful.

"Probie?" Gibbs' heart dropped into his stomach at Mike Franks' voice. "Don't listen to this bastard. He's got a few screws loose—" Franks was abruptly cut-off and replaced by a hard collision sound that left Tony and Gibbs flinching.

"That's why, _Agent_ DiNozzo. Catch the Red Line at the Bethesda stop. You can be there in ten minutes, right?" Mason continued without listening for a response. "And I'd hurry. If one of you is missing, your former partners will die. No exceptions."

* * *

_Weren't expecting that, were ya? _

_**A/N: The Red Line is one branch of the Washington, D.C. subway. According to Google maps, it takes 5 minutes to drive from Bethesda Naval Hospital (where they are now) to the Bethesda stop of the Red Line.**_

_Thanks for reading! Reviews appreciated!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**READ THIS**__**:**__I took some good advice this week, so I reviewed *ALL* the previous chapters and made some very necessary changes. We're talking major rewrites, here, not just fixing typos. Hopefully, my Tony is more Tony (I added a few movie references; kudos to you if you can find them), my Abby is less Abby when Tony's life is in danger and more serious, my Gibbs is more Gibbs, etc. Basically, my characters are truer to their television selves. _

_So, instead of one new chapter, you get four completely revised chapters. The main plot is the same though, but I'd advise rereading. _

_This will be the only time I will *_ever*_ do this. _

_I think the new chapters are greatly improved, and hopefully you find the same. I'd love to hear your input!_

_

* * *

_

Even before Mason had hung up the phone, Tony was already moving. He disconnected all the leads and pulled out his IV for the second time in ten minutes, forcing himself to ignore the screeching machine. He stood shakily, listing back and forth uncertainly until Gibbs' hand on his shoulder steadied him.

The nurse hustled into the room not thirty seconds after the alarm sounded.

"You can't be out of bed!" she cried.

Still supporting Tony, Gibbs drew back his coat to reveal his badge. "Official business, ma'am. Is it safe for him to leave?"

The nurse hesitated.

"Please, ma'am. It's very important." Tony almost dropped the shirt he was holding, managing to make a clumsy save before it hit the floor. Had Gibbs just said please? The only other time he had heard his boss use the "magic word" was just after his Mexican sabbatical when he had that dead animal growing on his face. Mike Franks had been involved then as well... He was no Charlie Eppes, but even he, a lowly phys ed major, could see a pattern emerging.

"He'll have to sign the release forms," the nurse said slowly, glancing at Tony's chart, "but he should be fine. I wouldn't advise it though."

"Duly noted," Tony replied, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before completely giving up the idea of leaving the hospital well-dressed. He could button his shirt in the car, assuming Gibbs ever slowed enough for Tony to be able to focus on one thing for longer than a second… Slinging his jacket over his shoulder, he headed for the door with Gibbs hot on his heels.

Gibbs punched the call button for the elevator, his foot tapping impatiently.

"We don't have time for this. You up for the stairs?" Gibbs asked Tony, spinning around to locate the nearest stairwell.

Tony just nodded, unable to find the air to speak. The short excursion from his hospital room had left him breathing hard already, and that had been only a couple hundred feet. He took a deep breath and summoned his inner energy reserves, ready to do whatever it took to save his former partner and longtime friend.

Grasping the handrail tightly to avoid falling flat on his face, he attempted to conserve energy by taking every other step. Regardless, both he and Gibbs were gasping for breath three floors later. They burst through the door like Superman exiting the phone booth, minus the skintight jumpsuit and tights. Those waiting in the E.R. were less than impressed by their appearance and shot them looks of disgust and irritation by the unwelcome interruption.

"I'll get the car," Gibbs called unnecessarily before sprinting for the parking lot.

"Official business," Tony announced, cutting the extremely long line outside registration. "Paperwork for Anthony DiNozzo," he requested, flashing his most winning smile to the nurse while leaning heavily on the counter and trying to relax his breathing. He held up his badge to the line in an attempt to eliminate any hard feelings from those behind him.

"Sir, you'll have to get in the back of the line. These people were waiting long before you." The nurse pointed at the end of the line without looking up from her current file.

"Ma'am, lives are at stake. It is _imperative_ I leave now," Tony tried being his usual charming self before adopting a more blunt approach when the nurse continued ignoring him. "Will you get my paperwork, or should I get it myself?" The nurse finally looked up from her file, surprised that anyone would speak to her in such a manner. She eyed Tony for a moment, meeting his challenging stare and returning it with one of her own.

"Mary, pull the paperwork for DiNozzo. Now," the nurse ordered after a moment, apparently deciding the agent in front of her was serious.

Tony signed the forms while speed walking to the exit, handing the clipboard to Mary who trailed a few steps behind him.

"Thank you," Tony flashed Mary a genuine smile. When this Mason business was over, he was definitely paying Mary a social call.

A honking noise from the other side of the parking lot drew his attention. The NCIS sedan was speeding toward where he was standing. Just before the car hit him, it slowed to a crawl and the passenger door was flung open. Tony jumped into the car, bracing himself for the whiplash as Gibbs stomped on the gas. He barely managed to pull the door shut and buckle his seatbelt before they hit the service streets.

If Tony had thought Gibbs' driving was bad before, it had nothing on the way they were driving now. Gibbs pulled out into traffic without hesitation, forcing other drivers to slam on their brakes and honk angrily at him. To Tony's surprise, Gibbs was _grinning_. He apparently enjoyed driving like a maniac.

The five minute commute took less than three, since Gibbs had run every light. Vance was not going to be happy with the high fines and multiple tickets that were headed his way… Gibbs abruptly braked, shocking Tony from his revere and throwing him into the dashboard.

"Gibbs, can I have a warning next 'fore you do that again?" Tony complained half-heartedly, rubbing his shoulder where the seatbelt had burned him as he exited the car.

They sprinted down the stairs, pushing people out of the way like professional linesmen.

"Make a hole. Official business. NCIS," Tony shouted in hope that people would understand and get out of the way. Instead the stubborn _idiots_ remained in the way, clumping together even more than before. A few well placed elbows broke up the crowd and allowed Tony and Gibbs to pass.

They jumped the turnstile, which should have an easy task for your athletic, thirty-something man. Then again, this average someone _hadn't_ just been poisoned. Following Gibbs' lead, Tony planted his hands firmly on the posts and swung himself over the turnstile's arms, practically tumbling to the floor when his feet didn't get firmly planted underneath him. Gibbs reached back, grabbing a fistful of Tony's suit jacket, hauling his agent back to his feet before they had another injury about which to worry.

"Hey! You can't do that!" a security guard cried, as the two men ran past him. Tony unclipped his badge and held it up while sprinting for the nearest subway car. He ran along the track, hopping up and down to see around the standing passengers, looking for Mason.

"DiNozzo." Tony turned to see Gibbs pointing through the window. Tony ran unevenly toward Gibbs, who had already entered the subway. Tony grabbed the handrails and hauled himself into the car, fully observing his surroundings in less than a second. Other than the two groups of people sitting on opposite ends of the seat bank, the car was empty. The closest passenger looked up from the newspaper he was reading and smiled at the NCIS agents.

"Agents," Mason nodded curtly, looking at his watch. "You made it with a minute to spare."

"Faster than a speeding bullet, we are," Tony panted, collapsing next to Gibbs in the seat across from Mason as the subway sped away from the station.

At the sound of Tony's voice, the man next to Mason looked up. Tony stifled the urge to gasp as he saw his former partner. Kenzie's face was covered in bruises and dried blood, and one eye was almost swollen closed. His hands were also handcuffed in front of him.

"What did you do to him?" Tony asked, trying to keep his anger out of his tone.

"Let's just say Kenzie didn't come quietly," Mason grinned. "He put up quite the fight."

Tony nodded approvingly at Kenzie. "Good for you, Mike. Glad to see you managed to piss off more people than just me and Captain Franco!"

"It took some work, DiNozzo. This guy's harder to rile than you are. I had to resort to my corny jokes and charming personality."

"And how'd that work out for you?" Tony was glad to see Kenzie seemed mentally fine; he was maintained the witty banter without hesitation. His pupils also followed Tony's slight motions without delay, eliminating the possibility of a concussion.

"Reunion's over," Mason interrupted. He motioned with one hand to the other couple at the end of the car.

"Probie," Mike Franks said as he approached with Mason's henchman following closely behind him.

"Boss," Gibbs replied with the same emotionless tone. "What are you doing here? It's a helluva time to visit D.C."

"Ya, I know, Probie. But this idiot here," Franks thumbed his finger at Mason, "tricked me into believing you were hurt. He did all the computer stuff to convince Layla that the call was from your new director. I was secretly hoping SecNav had fired that lowlife boxer whose in charge and hired someone else…Guess I was wrong."

Gibbs was touched that Franks had come all the way to D.C. for him, even though it was under false pretenses. He and Franks had the same sort of relationship he shared with DiNozzo: it was based on the "tough-love" principle which appeared to be cruel and callous to the casual observer, but those involved knew that the bond they shared was indestructible, no matter what happened. Of the many fleeting relationships he had had with a variety of people, these few were the ones he valued the most.

"I hate to break up this Hallmark moment, but we have some business to attend to," Mason snapped, pretending to wipe a tear from his face.

Mason's henchman grabbed Franks by the shoulder and shoved him in the seat next to Kenzie.

"I have what you want so, you're going to get what I want. I want ten thousand dollars. You bring me that and a few other things in twenty-four hours and I will release your former partners."

"How are we—" Tony began.

"No interruptions please or your partners will pay the price," Mason chided. "It gets _so_ much better. Those 'few other things' I want are the contents of two specific safety deposit boxes. You will rob the United Bank of Baltimore, steal ten thousand dollars from the vault, and break into two safety deposit boxes. Hopefully, you are smart enough to not get caught since your partners' lives depend on it. In this little challenge, I get to prove that I created a flawless plan, and that you two bumbling buffoons caught a lucky break in my arrest. My conviction was a fluke—a very sad and remorseful fluke—but none the less, a fluke. I will prove not only to you, but also to the entire world, that I outsmarted two of the world's 'best' NCIS agents."

"Now that hurts," Tony spoke up, pretending to look wounded. "I know I'm no Agent K, but a 'bumbling buffoon'? I _have_ been known to close a case or two all by my lonesome."

Mason turned to Franks, either ignoring Tony or not caring about what was said. "I am sorry you were dragged into this, but Jethro here has such a hard time forming meaningful relationships. I mean, his ex-wives as leverage? He'd walk away without a second thought. But, you! His former boss! You're one of the most important people in his life, one of the few he trusts with his life. Am I right, Jethro?"

"Glad I could be of assistance," Franks muttered in the background. Mason shot Franks a piercing glare before returning his stare to Gibbs.

"We're going to need more people," Gibbs stated, not letting Mason know how much he hated being on a first-name basis with criminals. "As you said yourself, it can't be done with two healthy people, let alone with one who just poisoned."

"I guess I should thank you for that, by the way," Tony spoke directly to Mason, his tone dripping with venom. "How 'bout a subscription to _How to Successfully Murder your Enemies for Dummies_? That do?"

"Ah. That mouth again," Mason rose without warning and backhanded Tony viciously across the mouth.

Tony grimaced as he tasted the metallic liquid on his tongue and felt it dribble out of the corner of his mouth. Dammit! Would it be so hard for him to not say anything? Actually…yes, it would. His mouth was his defense mechanism, probably stemming from lack of a stable father figure in his childhood or some other Freudian nonsense. But there was time for reminiscing about his wonderful childhood later. Right now, he was forced to listen to Mason's instructions and figure out a way to save the day, superhero style.

Tony righted himself and wiped the blood from his mouth while continuing to stare defiantly at Mason. Kenzie shot Tony a concerned look, but the Senior Field Agent shrugged lightly. Mason was even crazier than Tony had originally thought; on the DiNozzo Psycho Criminal scale, Mason had surpassed the Joker (the Jim Carrey portrayal, of course) and was quickly approaching Norman Bates caliber.

"Anything else, Agent DiNozzo?" Mason sneered.

"No, that'll do for now," Tony deadpanned. Mason rose again, ready to hit Tony again, but Gibbs sprang to his feet and caught Mason's arm.

"I need him," Gibbs stated, stared menacingly at Mason. Mason held Gibbs' glare for a long moment before lowering his arm and taking his seat.

"Fine. Have it your way," Mason sighed heavily and sat down. "I personally think you'd be better off without him. Now, to answer your question; you may consult only two other people: a Timothy McGee and the lovely Miss Ziva David. Anyone else and I shoot Kenzie and Franks. You will also take Ricky along with you. He will be an active psart of your plan and will be reporting to me every few hours. If anything is awry, it only takes one phone call, and I will shoot Kenzie and Franks. You call the police and…" Mason paused, waiting for an answer.

"You shoot Kenzie and Franks," Tony and Gibbs unenthusiastically recited in unison.

"Good," Mason nodded affirmatively. "Any more questions? No? Good. This is our stop." He stood up as the subway coasted to a stop.

"One more thing," Mason turned to face the agents. "Your guns, badges and government IDs, and cell phones please. In the bag."

The NCIS agents reluctantly parted with their belongings, shoving them into the bag Ricky has provided. The thug proceeded to hand the bag to Mason, who casually slung it over his shoulder.

"Now you are naturalized citizens, not under federal orders, able to be tried and found guilty if the situation arises. I wish you all the best. Happy bank robbing!"

Mason motioned to a lump in his jacket pocket. "Kenzie and Franks are leaving with me. If you resist, you know what happens."

As Kenzie and Franks got up, Kenzie pretended to stumble, falling heavily into Tony.

"Call Bill at HQ. He'll give you a hand," Kenzie whispered softly into Tony's ear.

"Enough stalling," Mason grabbed the back of Kenzie's suit, pulling him off Tony and practically throwing him off the train. Mason poked the gun into Franks, who ambled slowly behind Kenzie as if he had nothing better to do.

Tony and Gibbs were forced to watch their former partners and close friends walk away with an armed psychopath, wondering just how they were going to pull off this near impossible task.

* * *

_ On a lighter note, we've reached Mason's demands. How are Tony and Gibbs going to pull off a bank robbery without NCIS authority? Will they succeed in time to save Kenzie and Franks?_

_ Drop me a line! Let me know what you think! I look forward to hearing from you!_


	5. Chapter 5

_When life hands you lemons, you have to make lemonade. This new chapter is your lemonade! Enjoy! :)_

* * *

The automatic doors whooshed closed just behind Mason, trapping Tony and Gibbs in the car for another stop. The minute Mason left, the NCIS agents sprang from their seats. They had to alert McGee and Ziva and get them to Baltimore as fast as possible. The men, followed closely by Ricky, hurried forward to access the other cars and hopefully commandeer a cell phone. Tony frowned at the small catwalk that connected the two subway cars.

"You sure that's gonna hold us?" he questioned, mild trepidation creeping into his voice.

"No," Gibbs stated. "You got a better idea?"

"Sadly, no," Tony replied sourly. He grabbed the front rail, planted one foot on the rickety catwalk and leapt across to the other car before he had a chance to change his mind.

This car was almost empty as well, except for a young couple texting on their smart phones. Tony threw open the door, startling the pair.

"NCIS. I need your cell phone," Tony ordered, marching up to the couple and standing directly in front of them.

"NCI-who?" The girl looked up at Tony questioningly.

"Naval Crim—you know what? Never mind. Just give me your phone." He reached for the device.

"No," the girl shrieked, pulling her phone close to her chest. "You can't do that."

"Official business, miss," Gibbs said, holding out his hand. Ricky was hovering around Gibbs' blind spot, causing an uneasy feeling that a senior agent such as himself was definitely not used to feeling. Attempting to forget Ricky's presence all together, Gibbs met the young lady's gaze evenly and raised his eyebrows slightly. "There are lives at stake," he added while maintaining her eye contact. She cocked her head slightly before slowly extending the phone.

"Catherine! What are you doing?" her friend cried.

"I believe them. I don't know why, but I do." Catherine gave Gibbs' an appraising look. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you drop it off at the address on the back when you're done with it?"

"I think we could manage that," Gibbs half-smiled at Catherine before tossing the phone to Tony. They walked hurriedly towards the nearest doors, ready to jump off as soon as the subway stopped.

Before Tony could dial the number, the phone was ripped from his grasp. Ricky stood a few feet away, the cell phone gripped tightly in his massive paw.

"What's the number?" he questioned, motioning with one hand toward the lump in his pocket.

"555-4335," Tony recited.

Ricky turned to Gibbs. "That true?"

"Would he lie to you?" Gibbs asked, deciding to assume Tony's job and going for the witty answer.

Ricky dialed the number and handed the phone back to Tony. "You know what happens if you are …" he trailed off ominously.

"McGee!" Tony barked into the phone as soon as the Probie picked up. "Where are you?"

"About half-way to Baltimore," McGee answered. Blaring car horns and loud swearing were monopolizing the call and making it hard for Tony to hear.

"What? How…" Tony stammered.

"Remember that tracker Abby wanted to implant in you last time you went missing?"

"She didn't!" Tony exclaimed incredulously, trying to envision where said tracker would be located.

"She did. She called us an hour ago when she saw you had left the hospital. The way Ziva's driving, we'll be there in less than twenty minutes." McGee stopped speaking as a loud crash sounded in the background.

"Probie! You okay?" Tony shouted into the phone.

"Make that less than ten, Tony!" Ziva declared, assorted skidding noises and collisions filtering through the line. "You Americans and your driving…If I were in Israel, I could have been there already."

"Just try not to leave too much carnage, Zee-vah. Vance is already in for the surprise of his life when he gets Gibbs' tickets…"

"I cannot promise anything," she replied. There were soft wrestling noises before McGee came back on.

"Where should we meet you?" he questioned.

"There's a park Kenzie and I used to visit when we needed ideas," Tony rattled off the address to McGee.

"We'll meet you there in less than ten," McGee stated uneasily as car horns continued to sound. He apparently moved the phone away from his mouth, for his _"Could you slow down a little Ziva? I'd like to arrive in one piece if that's okay"_ could only faintly be heard. The corners of Tony's mouth turned up into a small smile. If Ziva decided NCIS wasn't for her, she'd make a killing as an Indy 500 racer.

"Just hurry, Tim," Tony added before hanging up the phone. He glanced at Ricky who was standing a short distance away, before frowning disapprovingly and turning his back on the man who had been assigned to follow them.

"Sooo…how are we gonna rob a bank?" Tony asked Gibbs while he shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched tiredly against the wall. Ricky took the closest seat to the doors, still in eavesdropping distance.

"I'm working on it," Gibbs replied gruffly, turning to face the doors again.

"You know, there was this movie once where they made a complete replica of the vault and used looped footage to convince the owner that his vault was being robbed…but we don't have time for that. Then there's Simon Gruber and his dump truck, aqueduct idea, but there's no aqueducts in D.C…and we can't go in guns blazing since we don't have any guns. So, forceful entry's off the table."

"Something a little more covert would be nice," Gibbs interrupted while racking his brain for a solution.

"Deception's good. We could go there under false pretenses, like a postal delivery guy or a mold inspector."

"How 'bout this?" Gibbs questioned. "You think of all the movies you've ever seen. Quietly. Then, tell me about the most likely one."

Tony stopped speaking and frowned at his boss. Thinking out loud was part of his process; he'd solved many a case by bouncing ideas off his co-workers. But he decided it wasn't worth the argument.

After a few minutes of silence, Gibbs spoke up. "DiNozzo? You still got that account with the United Bank of Baltimore?"

"Yeah, boss," Tony said slowly. "What are you thinking?"

"You got a safety deposit box?"

"I think so. I'd have to check."

"Either you do or you don't, DiNozzo. We don't have time to 'check'," Gibbs growled, staring expectantly at his agent.

"I have one, but it's not exactly kosher, if you know what I mean," Tony admitted, matching Gibbs' stare with one of his own. When one takes on a mob boss, you never know when you might need an extra passport, some spare cash, and/or an extra gun. "That gonna be a problem?"

"We'll have to make it work. What's the name on the account?"

"Stringfellow Hawke. What else?" Tony grinned at Gibbs, who, as usual, didn't catch his witty reference.

Gibbs was about to reprimand Tony for not picking something more mundane, but the subway screeched to a stop before he could begin.

The NCIS agents flew out of the subway and up the stairs to the ground floor. Gibbs had made it to the top of the stairs and had almost exited the subway station before realizing Tony wasn't next to him. He stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around to search for his agent.

Tony was just reaching the top stairs, both hands tightly gripping the handrail. His sweaty face was pale and taught with concentration. Even from a distance, Gibbs could see he was fighting much too hard to bring air into his lungs.

Gibbs sprinted back to Tony, offering his hand in assistance. Tony shook his head wildly to refuse Gibbs' offer, wincing as he did so.

"I'm fine, boss. But I think I need to hit the gym a few more times a month. Those stairs ain't what they used to be." As Tony pulled himself to the top step, his face went completely white and his eyes rolled back into his head. Gibbs, who had recognized the warning signs of passing out, managed to grab the lapels of Tony's suit jacket to keep his agent from collapsing.

"Dammit, DiNozzo!" Gibbs cursed as he struggled to support his agent. He looped Tony's arm over his shoulder and tried to take as much of Tony's weight as possible. Why the hell did Mason try to poison them? He wasn't going to get anything accomplished if they were both dead!

"Give us some help!" he barked at Ricky who was standing uselessly off to the side.

Ricky noted the intensity in Gibbs' tone and wisely did not argue. He slung Tony's other arm over his shoulder so the Italian hung limply between them. "He looks terrible."

"D'ya think?" Gibbs asked sarcastically, his voice dripping with venom.

"What do you have planned?"

"We need a car. Think you can manage that once we get outside?"

Ricky looked like he was going to protest, but Gibbs fixed him with one of deadliest glares. "Ya," Ricky sighed heavily. "I think I can manage."

"Boss?" Gibbs heard Tony questioned uncertainly.

"How ya feeling, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked for the second time today, feeling some of Tony's weight being lifted from his shoulders as his Senior Field Agent attempted walking. That simple effort apparently was too much for Tony in his current state, for his knees buckled and he lost consciousness again.

The one good thing about the situation was that people were much friendlier to someone who looked injured, as Tony did. They immediately moved out of the way, allowing the trio to exit the station without incident. Gibbs gently lowered Tony onto a bench while Ricky sped away to find a vehicle. He gently grasped Tony's wrist and felt for the pulse. His heart rate was elevated but steady. Gibbs gently pried open one of Tony's eyes, noting how the pupils shrank to avoid the bright sunlight. That was as good a sign as any that his brain was still functioning properly.

Tony stirred once before cracking his eyes open again. "Where are we?" he asked between heavy breaths.

"Outside the station," Gibbs informed him.

"How'd we…didn't pass out, did I?" Tony attempted to look concerned, but, in his current state, just managed to make himself look more sickly. His breathing was labored and he had one hand protectively wrapped around his stomach. The amount of effort it took for Tony to keep breathing did not go unnoticed by Gibbs.

"Twice." Tony's eyes went wide with shock.

"No one's…gotta know…'bout? Right?"

"You're sick, Tony. I think that's the least of their worries right now."

"True…boss…where's Ricky?" Tony had noticed the absence of their favorite henchmen long ago.

"He went to find us a car. You're in no condition to walk to that park."

" 'Sa 'nother thing…Vance 'sn't gonna…b' happy 'bout," Tony replied, fighting with all his might to keep his eyes open. Gibbs noticed the struggle and wasn't about to let it continue.

"Why don't you close your eyes for a second, Tony?" he asked, knowing the younger man would never willing admit that he needed some sleep. "I'll wake you when Ricky gets here."

"Think I'll just…check m' eyes…for sun leaks," Tony quipped weakly as he allowing his eyes to close. Gibbs placed one hand on Tony's forearm, a gesture that was meant to offer a small amount of comfort. His effort did not go unheeded for Gibbs felt Tony relax and heard the deepening of his breaths as the younger man drifted off into sleep. Tony really should be in a hospital. Damn Mason and his plans, his challenges, and his stupid game.

A car horn brought Gibbs out of his reverie. Ricky had returned with a small, four-door sedan. He came around to help Gibbs gently place Tony in the backseat. Tony stirred and muttered something under his breath but did not wake. Gibbs took the seat next to Tony, buckling his agent's seatbelt and making sure the Senior Field Agent was as comfortable as possible.

Ricky pulled away from the curb, squealing the tires. Gibbs took this time to review his plan. It wasn't perfect in any manner and was going to take a helluva team effort to pull it off. He took Tony's pulse again, alarmed by how fast his heart was beating—clearly, the poison wasn't completely out of his system yet. Gibbs continued to examine Tony, noticing the tinges of pink on Tony's cheeks that were in sharp contrast to his ashen complexion. Great, he was running a fever. That's just what they needed.

"We're here," Ricky announced gruffly after a few more minutes of silence.

Gibbs walked around to Tony's side of the car. He squatted next to the car, putting one arm on Tony's bicep, using the other to gently shake his agent's shoulder. "DiNozzo," he said softly.

Tony's eyes opened and he let out a small groan. "At the park, already?"

"Yeah." Gibbs paused before cautiously asking, "Can you get out of the car?"

"Uh, yeah," Tony stated, giving Gibbs a 'what do you think?' look. He gathered his remaining energy and pulled himself out of the car. His knees buckled, but he remained conscious, tightly gripping the door jamb to support himself.

"Um…maybe I need a hand," he looked over his shoulder at Gibbs. Gibbs nodded, ducking under Tony's outstretched arm and wrapping his own around Tony's upper back. Together, they stumbled to the nearest park bench. Tony plopped himself down in the middle of the seat, closing his eyes again.

"Thanks, boss," he muttered faintly.

"Do you need anything?" Gibbs questioned.

"A venti coffee, black, would be wonderful, but I don't suppose there's a Starblocks around…"

"No, there isn't. But there is a coffee vender not far away. You," Gibbs motioned Ricky, holding out some bills, "here's ten dollars. Two large coffees, black."

"I am not your gofer," Ricky protested.

With a speed even Gibbs didn't know he possessed, he grabbed Ricky and threw him against the nearest monument, his forearm pressing lightly on Ricky's trachea.

"Your boss just tried to kill us both, and almost succeeded. I am not in the mood for your lip. If you don't want to speak to St. Peter today, I suggest you start helping out _without_ being asked. Now: Get. Us. Some. Coffee."

Gibbs removed his forearm from Ricky's throat, holding out the bills again.

Ricky frowned at Gibbs and rubbed his throat, while reaching for the money.

"When Mason hears about this…"

"Mason had better _not _hear about it, or prison won't be an option for you once he's arrested," Gibbs growled. "Oh, and you'd better bring back some food too—healthy stuff. Sandwiches, and the like." He pulled a few more bills from his wallet and handed them to the henchman.

Ricky gulped, the implications of Gibbs' threat ringing loudly and clearly. "Two coffees, then. Black. And some sandwiches," he repeated as he hustled to the nearest coffee vendor.

* * *

_Hmmm….What is Gibbs' plan and how does the safety deposit box fit in? Will Tony be able to help his team rob the bank, or will he need another hospital stay?_

_What do you think? Bonus points if you can figure out what McGee's number means…_


	6. Chapter 6

_I post this chapter in honor of September 1__st__. This means there are only 20 days until the premiere of NCIS Season Eight!_

_

* * *

_

Ricky came sauntering back to where Gibbs and Tony sat, balancing two sandwiches on top of the two large coffees.

Gibbs grabbed the food without acknowledging Ricky's deed, holding out his hand for the spare change. Ricky sighed heavily, pulled a crumpled bill and a few coins from his pocket, and dropped them into Gibbs' palm.

"That must be my coffee." Tony croaked as he forced open both eyes and reached eagerly for the cup.

"Not too fast, DiNozzo, or it'll make you sick," Gibbs ordered before handing over the brew. Gibbs knew Tony was aware of that fact, but Gibbs couldn't help saying it anyway. There was just something about Tony that managed to invoke Gibbs' paternal side, stirring the protective instincts Gibbs thought had died fifteen years ago. Yet, somehow, whenever DiNozzo was hurt, these feeling came back full-force.

"Yes, mother," Tony replied sarcastically before taking a big gulp of the steaming liquid. Almost the instant the coffee hit his stomach, he could feel the caffeine seeping into his system. It wouldn't be long now before he was back to his normal charming self.

He took another large swig before placing the cup in his lap and eyeing the sandwich.

"The same goes for the sandwich," Gibbs stated in response to Tony's expectant stare.

Tony chose not to reply, instead focusing his energy on unwrapping the Philly cheesesteak. His mouth began watering uncontrollably as the smell of the freshly cooked sirloin wafted through the air. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until this very minute, but really, he hadn't eaten since lunch yesterday. He demolished the sandwich in a few hearty bites, discarding Gibbs' advice about eating slowly.

"That good?" Gibbs asked with a hint of reproach in his tone.

"Only the best in Baltimore," Tony replied, leaning backwards, stretching out his long legs in front of him. He clasped his hands over his chest and closed his eyes once again. His momentary adrenaline rush had ended, but the real food and coffee had left him feeling marginally better than he had a few moments ago; while most of his symptoms were still present, being able to remain conscious for a while was a definite improvement.

He flinched as he heard a wild acceleration and the sudden screech of brakes.

"Ziva's here," he announced to Gibbs without opening his eyes.

"How could you tell?" Gibbs quipped in response.

Tony opened one eye as pounding footsteps and heavy breathing approached.

"Geez, McHefty," Tony cracked as McGee bent over with his hands on his knees, panting heavily. "Maybe you should visit the gym a little more. It would do you some good."

"If this is the thanks I get for leaving my Comic-Con convention in order to drive here to help you deal with some crazy psycho, then I'm going home," McGee shot back between pants.

"My bad, Elf Lord. I appreciate your great sacrifice. That's only the…third?—or is it the fourth—convention you've been to this year?" Tony returned, not ready to lose this battle of wills to someone who played considered online video games a form of social interaction.

"You look like death passed over," Ziva commented to Tony, as she took the seat between him and Gibbs, effectively cutting off McGee's next retort.

"It's _warmed_ over, Zee-vah. And thank you so much for that, by the way. It's just what I wanted to hear today, right up there with my partner's been kidnapped by a psycho and Mason's was released from jail without anyone telling me about it," Tony snapped, his eyes shooting daggers at the Mossad operative.

McGee frowned at Tony's sudden mood swing and chose not to respond as he straightened up, pulled his iPhone from his pocket and handed it to Gibbs.

"Hey, boss. You're supposed to call Ducky. But be warned: he's not too thrilled you checked Tony out of the hospital…"

"Yeah, well, we didn't really have much choice," Gibbs muttered as he dialed the Scotsman. He pulled the phone away from his ear as the irate Medical Examiner began reprimanding him.

"Jetho! I cannot believe you would do such an insane thing as checking young Anthony out of the hospital! Nerium oleander poisoning is not something you just _shake off _when you're through with it. Considering the extensive damage to Anthony's lungs as a result of the _Y. Pestis_, he should remain in the hospital for a considerable while longer."

"You done, Duck?" Gibbs asked as Ducky paused for breath.

"Yes, yes, Jethro, I am finished. I _am_ sorry that you had the misfortune of being on the receiving end of my anger. The bastard who did this has me all worked up. How is Anthony doing anyway?"

"I'll let him tell you." Gibbs handed the phone to Tony with a stern glare.

"Hi Ducky!" Tony called with as much enthusiasm as he could muster. "How are you?"

"Anthony! I am not in the mood for your wit! We're going to cut straight to the chase: How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?"

"Well…not—" Gibbs glowered at Tony with such intensity that the Senior Field Agent actually recoiled slightly in an attempt to escape his boss' line of sight.

"Anthony!" Ducky bellowed. Tony jumped slightly, having forgotten about the Medical Examiner, who was keen on verbally accosting him from D.C. He fumbled to catch his airborne phone before answering the question.

"Well, my stomach aches, my head feels like the OSU marching band is holding practice using my skull as the playing field and I feel kinda out of it," he replied obediently.

"Well, it appears you ingested a higher dose of the nerium oleander than the doctors originally thought. I thought as much, and have sent a remedy along with Timothy."

Tony looked expectantly at McGee who handed over a small black doctor's bag.

"Yeah, we have the bag," Tony told Ducky, while opening the bag and inspecting its contents. He pulled out a syringe and small vial.

"It's not the shot, Ducky, is it?" Tony asked, a note of apprehension creeping into his tone.

"Why, yes, Anthony, it is. The vial is filled with Digibind, which is the antidote for a digitalis overdose. Fortunately, the chemical structure of digitalis and nerium oleander are remarkable similar. It is a recent discovery that will be most beneficial to the medical world. Now, give me back to Jethro, if you would be so kind."

Tony unhappily handed over the phone, continuing to hold the vial and syringe at arm's length.

"Jethro. You remember how to administer injections, don't you? You were a great help to me in Paris during the—well, that's not important now. Just remember to clean the injection site thoroughly—5 cc's of the Digibind should do it. The treatment is experimental though, so you will have to keep a close eye on his for the next hour to ensure our lad does not develop an allergic reaction. You should also have him drink the beverage I've included—it's a patented Mallard remedy that is known to have remarkable rejuvenating effects."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said, his thumb hovering over the End call button.

"Who _is_ the bastard anyway, Jethro?" Ducky questioned before Gibbs' finger made contact with the iPhone screen.

"James Mason." Gibbs replied, disconnecting the phone to a few choice expletives uttered by the Scotsman.

"My god, Tony, it's just a shot," Ziva frowned at her co-worker, finding it hard to believe that Tony was truly afraid of anything.

"I'm not afraid of it, Zee-vah," Tony responded, picking up on Ziva's underlying statement. "I just don't like getting poked and prodded with sharp objects. Contracting the plague kinda does that for you."

"How do you Americans say it? Man up?" Ziva looked to McGee for clarification and was rewarded with an affirmative nod. "Well, then, man up, Tony." Before Tony could protest, she turned her back on him, busing herself with an evaluation of Ricky. She shook her head disapprovingly, not pleased with what she saw. The man was going to cause trouble for them; of this, Ziva was sure. She'd have to keep an eye on him to ensure the safety of this mission.

"Easy for you to say," Tony muttered before turning back to where Gibbs had been standing. "Just get it over with, boss. We've got places to be, people to see, banks to rob. Ow!" He rubbed his upper arm, glaring viciously at his boss who was holding the now empty syringe between two fingers. With much effort, Tony bit back a sharp comment about Gibbs resembling a certain Vicodin-addicted doctor, deciding it wasn't the time or place for a pop culture reference.

"Ducky says to drink this," Gibbs rooted through the bag and produced the drink.

"You sure about that, boss? I think the water in Iraq was cleaner than this," Tony replied, staring suspiciously at the muddy brown liquid Ducky had sent.

"I so swear, DiNozzo, if you don't drink every last drop…" Gibbs trailed off, the implications of his threat resonating loudly with his agent.

"On it, boss," Tony replied dutifully before taking a large gulp of the murky drink. He grimaced as the thick, clumpy liquid slid down his throat. It was awful! Imagine burning rubber combined with rotting eggs topped with expired milk, and that was a Wolfgang Puck buffet compared to this. He knew better than to complain, and obediently downed the rest of the remedy without comment.

"What now, boss?" Tony questioned, viciously chucking the empty bottle back into Ducky's bag.

"Where's your fake ID?"

"It's in the backyard of my old house, next to Rick and TC's graves."

"For what does he need his fake ID?" Ziva questioned at the same time McGee asked, "Who or what were Rick and TC?"

Gibbs didn't respond to either, choosing to march quickly toward the NCIS sedan. Tony slowly pulled himself to his feet, pleasantly surprised when the world stayed upright. Apparently, that stuff Ducky had given him was working. He set off after his boss at a slow pace, increasing his speed when he remained conscious and alert.

"Shotgun!" he cried.

McGee and Ziva looked at each other and rolled their eyes before following Gibbs and Tony to the car. It was going to be a _long_ car ride.

* * *

Some where between the Baltimore park and the United Bank of Baltimore, Tony began feeling much better. Whatever Ducky had packed into that drink was really having the desired effect—his muscles no longer felt leaden and staying awake was once again a simple task. However, the Medical Examiner might have been a little overzealous adding the caffeine to the concoction…well, having that extra large coffee with said concoction probably wasn't the best idea either…but he could no longer remain still; he was sitting with his ankle on his opposite knee, the foot that was in the air was twitching spasmodically and the foot on the floor was tapping the melody to an upbeat Sinatra song. Not only that, but he was actually twiddling his thumbs.

In less than twenty minutes, he had crossed to the other end of the enthusiasm spectrum, but at least, at this end, he was more his normal self. Moving that much in a cramped back seat, however, wasn't boding well for his continual survival. Ricky had refused to sit in the back, forcing Tony to surrender his previously claimed seat. Now, he sat next to Ziva, who had taken the middle seat after McGee, who, in a surprisingly unProbie move, had pulled rank. She was the unhappy recipient of his jumpy behavior and continued to shoot him dirty looks for the entire trip.

They had stopped by Tony's old house, a quaint little condo not far from the BPD Headquarters. Without pause, Tony jumped out of the car, muttering something about "Terra firma!" under his breath and disappeared behind the house. Before long, he came around the corner, holding a plastic Ziploc full of fake identification in one hand. As Gibbs pressed the gas pedal to the floor ensuring a speedy trip to the United Bank of Baltimore, Tony took the opportunity to fill in his coworkers about his and Gibbs' first case and Mason's return, all the while bouncing impatiently in his seat. Ziva was fixing Tony with glares that rivaled Gibbs' own, but before she could do something drastic, Gibbs pulled up to the bank.

"How did we do?" Gibbs questioned, looking at his agents in the rearview mirror.

"Well, boss, I think we broke the sound barrier a few miles back and briefly entered Mach 1, McGee almost ralphed on his new Armani shoes and Ziva, well, Ziva didn't say much the entire trip," Tony reported.

Gibbs turned around and fixed him with a glare that would have had even Fornell cringing.

Tony immediately sobered, his attempt to lighten the mood discarded. "Lunch break is in half an hour, boss," he answered.

"Good," Gibbs nodded and turned to Ricky, staring evenly at the man who had been assigned to follow them. Ricky cleared his throat before beginning.

"The safety deposit boxes in question are numbers 452 and 494. Do not attempt to place a tracker or bug of any sort on these items or Mason will shoot your friends."

"Yeah, yeah, we know," Tony interrupted, waving his hand dismissively.

"What's the plan, boss?" McGee questioned after a moment of thoughtful silence.

"Ask DiNozzo. It's his bank," Gibbs replied, returning his gaze to his Senior Field Agent.

"Okay, the safety deposit boxes have three security levels: one is the metal key assigned to _moi_, the second is the key card swiped by the on-duty security guard, and the third is the password submitted by the off-duty security guard in the security room. If any of these are not present, the alarm will sound and the vault door will close automatically, locking the intruders inside. But here's the good news: the United Bank of Baltimore is an old-fashioned, mom-and-pop joint—it still closes for lunch time between twelve and one. That'd be the best time to move."

"What do you know about the vault?"

"Nothing. Never had enough money to merit a look-see into the vault," Tony responded without a hint of regret.

"We'll have to ring it," Ziva stated confidently, positive she had nailed that idiom.

"_Wing_ it, Ziva. We'll have to _wing _it," Tony corrected. "You're an American citizen now—you should be getting these idioms right now. It's part of The Code."

"What code?" Ziva asked, a puzzled expression on her face.

"Never mind," Tony declared with a deep sigh. "How much time we got left, boss?"

"Enough time for you to sit back and shut up," Gibbs snapped.

Tony relaxed into his seat, resigning himself to the most boring half an hour of his life. He hated waiting, especially when Kenzie's life was on the line. Kenzie was one of the few Baltimore cops who had bothered to find out more about the newly transferred Uni, and had treated him well, despite his wisecracks and practical jokes. He and Kenzie had been a great team and had held the highest solve rate in the department, but more than that, they'd been close friends. Tony would do _anything_ to ensure Kenzie's continued safety, be it robbing a bank in broad daylight, surrendering his hand to the heart of the warrior, or dancing with the devil in the pale moonlight.

He couldn't wait to get his hands on Mason after this whole debacle was resolved. If Mason thought he was going to get away with this, he certainly had another thing coming…

* * *

_We had to get Tony back on his feet, since he has such an important role in the next chapter. _

_I already have the next chapter written, and since this one is essentially actionless, I will post Chapter Seven within the next few days._

_Thanks for reading! My loyal reviewers, you're the greatest! Those of you who haven't reviewed yet, I'd love to hear from you!_


	7. Chapter 7

_ Dearest readers: What is the episode where Tony is being Tony and Gibbs is out of head-slapping range so he throws a wad of paper at the back of DiNozzo's head instead? Thanks!_

_ Question Two: Boxes 452 and 494? Any diehard MW fans out there?_

* * *

One half hour later, Tony and McGee headed into the bank.

"_C'mon_ McMIT! What do you mean you can't count cards?" Tony exclaimed loudly as they entered through the bank's sophisticated revolving doors. The two bank employees who had not yet clocked out for lunch immediately sat back in their chairs, ready to help the new customers.

"What are you doing, Tony?" McGee hissed to his partner.

"I'm building our cover story. Did you want to walk in without saying anything? Can you spell suspicious?" Tony hissed back. He raised his voice and continued.

"I mean, I'd bet you've seen _21_ like a dozen times, right? Brings back memories of the old alma matter?"

"Tony, I don't know how to count cards," McGee returned.

Tony leaned his elbow on the counter and fixed the pretty teller with a true DiNozzo-smile.

"He can't count cards! Can you believe that…Amanda?" he asked after leaning in to read her nametag.

"That's illegal, sir," Amanda replied, fixing Tony with a disapproving look of her own.

"It can't be that hard," Tony turned back to McGee. "Alan Garner could do it after reading one book and he won, like, 80 grand."

"That's why it's called 'fiction', Tony," McGee countered. "And I don't need to count cards to win in Vegas. I have natural talent."

"Yeah, sure—" Tony began before he was cut-off by Amanda who had been eying the clock impatiently for the last minute.

"Sir, can I help you with something? Otherwise I would really like to go on my lunch break."

"Why, yes, you can. My name is Stringfellow Hawke and I would like to see the contents of my safety deposit box. One of my coworkers just passed her citizenship exam and we are taking her to Vegas to celebrate. I was hoping McMaverick here would win us some extra cash to make the celebration _extra_ special," he added, sending a flirtatious wink the teller's way.

She sighed heavily. "I can have Ryan here show you to your safety deposit box. Now, can I see some form of ID?"

Tony pulled the fake ID from his back pocket and handed it to her. She thoroughly examined it, even holding it up to the light to examine the micro-printing.

"Were you named after the character in _Airwolf_?" she questioned eagerly, looking up from the ID. "It was my dad's favorite show," she added as handed back the license, looking away embarrassed.

"Well, _actually_ Donald P. Bellisario _is_ my godfather. Some might say he named the character after me; others have said I'm just like him: brave, ruggedly handsome, single…" Tony added with a pointed look in Amanda's direction.

_Oh please, _McGee thought, putting forth a superhuman effort to avoid rolling his eyes. He wasn't sure how much more he could take of this before he ruined their whole mission by vomiting in disgust. Good thing it was time for his portion of the plan.

"Is there a restroom around?" he asked Amanda.

"If you go off to the left, take the first right, then another left, and it's the first door on your right," she replied. "It's kinda hard to find…"

As McGee headed off, she turned back to Tony. "Wow! I would have never guessed. So, you're, like, rich, right?"

"Well…" Tony trailed off with a shrug. The gesture was intended to display his humility, and apparently was received as such.

"I can see your parents raised you a gentlemen," Amanda said while nodding thoughtfully. "Most of the people who come in here only talk about how much they have in their bank account and brag about the latest clothes they've bought and who they had lunch with…I've never seen you in here before—it's a breath of fresh air, trust me!"

"I'm so sorry, Amanda," Tony interrupted after a quick glance at the clock. "I'm flattered you feel that way about me, and I've really enjoyed talking with you, but our flight leaves in less than two hours. I really need to get into my safety deposit box."

"Of course," she motioned hurriedly to Ryan, who was hovering a short distance away. "I hope you find everything to your liking, Mr. Hawke," she finished, giving Tony a coy smile.

"Thank you for your help, Amanda," Tony called over his shoulder as he was led away.

After a maze of turns that even Tony had a hard time remembering, Ryan paused in front of the handprint scanner and key card reader.

"Robert Ryan and Mr. Stringfellow Hawke," he announced to an unseen camera as he placed his hand on the scanner.

"The viewing room is just across the hall. If you'll wait in there while I bring you the box."

"I don't think so." Tony grabbed Ryan's arm and spun the security guard around. He put Ryan in a chokehold, reaching down with his other arm to keep him from reaching for his gun.

"Don't struggle—you'll make it worse. I'm not going to kill you," Tony hissed in Ryan's ear, trying to avoid the flailing arms Ryan was throwing in an attempt to dislodge his attacker. With a sudden burst of energy, Ryan threw himself backward, smashing Tony into the nearest wall. Tony gasped as the air was forced out of his lungs, but somehow managed to keep his forearm pressed tightly around Ryan's trachea.

Tony was counting the passing seconds in his head, knowing that ten seconds of continued pressure was enough to make the person lose consciousness. And more than that, and you ran the risk of killing the person you were innocently trying to incapacitate. At nine seconds, Tony was starting to worry slightly since Ryan was still flailing wildly. At ten seconds, Ryan bucked backwards, but not as strongly as before, his newest move not even knocking Tony off his feet. The Senior Field Agent countered by slightly tightened his grip and continuing to count the seconds with grim determination.

Finally, Ryan went limp. Tony released his grip on the unconscious security guard, letting him fall unceremoniously to the floor. Breathing hard, he quickly searched the guard, relieving the guard of his gun, walkie talkie and key ring before handcuffing Ryan and dragging the body in the vault.

He paused for a second, noting that the room had been redecorated since he'd last been there. _In fact, the new design looked vaguely familiar…_he mused as he pulled out his phone and dialed McGee. While the call was connecting, he remembered, mainly because that episode of _Magnum, P.I._ had been on over the weekend. The bank vault was a carbon copy of the one in which Thomas Magnum and Sue Remington (played by Carol Burnett) had been trapped overnight! _"Rembrandt's Girl"—good episode. One of his favorites next to "Home From the Sea" and "Did You See the Sunrise Part One"._

He tapped his foot impatiently as McGee's phone rang, rang…and rang. After the fifth ring, he started to get worried again. Why wasn't the Probie picking up? There should have been only one guard in the security room, usually some graying, semi-retiree on Medicare, that McUppercut should have KO'd easily…

"McGee! You in position?" Tony sighed with relief as the younger man came on the line.

"What do you think Tony?" McGee panted. He was sitting in the security office, with the unconscious security guard bound and gagged on the floor in front of him. He placed the phone in the crook of his neck, allowing him to erase the last few minutes of security footage and stop the cameras from transmitting.

"Where are Ziva and Gibbs?"

"They just entered." As McGee watched, Ziva and Gibbs entered the bank and quietly locked the door behind them. While they approached the counter, Ricky lagged back and began lowering the shades one by one.

"Can I help you?" McGee heard Amanda ask.

"I need you to relax," Gibbs told Amanda.

"Why?" she asked, a confused expression on her face.

"Because of this," Ziva stated from behind Amanda, having stealthily slipped around the counter. She gently pressed the pressure points on Amanda's neck before the teller could sound the silent alarm. Gibbs came around the counter to assist Ziva in gently lowering the bank employee to the floor.

"Freeze! Hands in the air!" Gibbs and Ziva looked up to see a third guard training his gun on them. Said guard had come around the corner a few seconds ago to find two intruders standing over Amanda's fallen body. Needless to say, he'd pulled his gun. The elderly man turned his head slightly to speak into his walkie talkie.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Gibbs spoke up, taking a step toward the guard as he and Ziva raised their hands into the air. "We're not here to hurt anyone."

"Like hell you're not. Look at Amanda!"

"She's unconscious, but otherwise unharmed," Gibbs replied, taking another step forward.

"_Unconscious_, _but otherwise unharmed, _my ass," the guard mocked before abruptly turning serious. "Stop moving! Do you want to get shot today?" Gibbs grinned internally, remembering that very morning when he had told Tony almost exactly the same thing. The words hadn't worked then either…

"Just hand over your gun and we promise not to hurt you," Gibbs said, obeying the guard's orders and stopping abruptly.

The guard's gun wavered for a moment as if deciding whether to shoot the intruders. Suddenly, a crashing noise was heard and the guard collapsed to the ground. Gibbs lunged for the gun, picking it up and training it on the guard who remained motionless. Ricky stood a few feet away, a box of pamphlets raised over his head for another blow if necessary.

"It's about time," Gibbs huffed, motioning with the gun toward the vault. Ricky made a face at Gibbs before following him deeper into the bank.

The three cleared each of the rooms they came across. The only other person who hadn't left for lunch was the branch manager who was sitting in the back, hunched over his computer and lost in his own world. He, too, was rendered unconscious in seconds, courtesy of the former Mossad liaison's extensive training.

They found Tony was in the vault, sorting through the guard's massive key ring, grinning widely when he located the correct pass card.

"You ready to work your magic?" Tony asked McGee over the phone as Ziva crouched next to the box, her lockpicking tools ready.

Gibbs stood on the other side of the small room, ready to empty the box into the burlap bag he had found in his trunk. Tony had a smart-ass quip about 'always being prepared' on the tip of his tongue, but he refrained from saying it aloud, knowing what was at stake if they couldn't meet Mason's demands.

Ricky stood at the door to the vault, unarmed, but watching for any loyal employees who might cut their break short. Gibbs' other job was to keep an eye on the henchmen. Unfortunately, they needed him to watch the hallway, but no one on the team trusted him with a gun.

McGee remained silent, conveying his 'what do you think?' expression with slight annoyance.

"Just asking. Sheesh," Tony muttered as he located the correct console. "All right, McCrabby. Box 452," Tony ordered, swiping the card as Ziva began to pick the lock.

"It is done," Ziva stated in less than minute, pulling the box from the wall. She opened the case and stared in awe at the massive diamonds that were artistically arranged on black leather. Her fingers itched to take the diamonds and examine their intrinsic beauty: she had not seen such perfectly cut diamonds since her childhood in Israel. Unfortunately, this was neither the time nor the place for such an action.

"That's impressive even for you, Zee-vah." Tony complimented as he took the box from Ziva and handed it to Gibbs. The Lead Agent emptied the gems into his sack before carefully replacing #452.

"Well, that was easy," Tony deadpanned. "Lock 'er up, McGee, and 'open sesame' box number 494."

"Yes, your highness," McGee replied snidely as he unlocked box 494. He had been on the team for six, almost seven years now. Would it kill Tony to treat him like an equal? He had been on the team for six, almost seven years, now. Then, McGee remembered how he'd acted when Sarah was accused of murder, and relented a little in his analysis of Tony, remembering how fiercely loyal the Senior Field Agent was to those about whom he truly cared_. It was just Tony's way,_ McGee decided. _Like it or not._

Breaking into safety deposit box 494 was much easier than box 452. Ziva yanked the box from the wall in under thirty seconds, a personal best. She smiled smugly and handed the box to Gibbs, who lifted the lid and poured its contents into the sack as well.

"Now the vault," Gibbs stated redundantly.

Ziva inspected the combination lock with the 90-digit dial. She put her ear against the door and twirled the dial experimentally. She frowned and pulled away from the door, examining the hinges and the handle.

"Don't 'spose any of you have Stella Bridger on speed dial?" Tony asked hopefully, interpreting the silence as a sign that Ziva couldn't pick the lock. No one responded, but Gibbs raised his eyebrows questioningly. Tony shrugged slightly in response, knowing the intention behind his small joke wasn't wasted on his boss.

"Can you narrow down the possibilities any, McGee?" Ziva questioned, returning to the dial. "I could give it a slot but it will take some time."

McGee pondered Ziva's question for a minute while debating whether to correct her or not. He shook his head, deciding it wasn't the time for English 101. He sighed heavily, out of ideas. He deciding to try his free-writing, or in this case free-thinking, technique. Hopefully among the stream of consciousness and other uncensored ideas, a useful plan would emerge.

McGee took a few deep breaths, resting the palms of his hands on the desk in front of him and planting his feet firmly on the ground. He relaxed his entire body and let his thoughts flow: English 101…school…Kody Meyers? Eureka!

His fingers flew over the keyboard as pulled up footage from the last week. "I'll review the previous security footage and see if I can see part of the combination," he called excitedly, manipulating the images to focus solely on those times in which the vault was opened or closed. He zoomed in on the footage, squinting to read the numbers on the tiny dial.

"Try 82-33-67-54-3-27-99-and…" he stopped speaking as an employee stepped in front of the dial, blocking the last digit.

Ziva paused, her fingers hovering over the dial. "What is the last number, McGee?"

"I…I don't know. There was only one day where the dial can be seen from the camera and the employee's blocking it. Can't you do it?"

Ziva sighed. She had not been forced to pick such a high quality combination lock in a long time, but hopefully it was like that stupid American idiom about riding a bike. "I will try my best."

She pressed her ear tightly against the safe and began slowly turning the dial. Gibbs, Tony and Ricky held their breath as she worked, not wanting to disrupt her in any way.

The seconds ticked by like hours. Just when Tony's lungs were aching for air, there was an audible click. Ziva yanked down on the door handle and swung open the heavy door. Everyone paused for a second, staring in amazement at the stacks of money that were sitting invitingly on large shelves.

Gibbs brought his group back to attention. "Ten thousand dollars. Non-sequential bills. Let's get going."

Team Gibbs worked methodically while Ricky continued to guard the door. Tony and Ziva would pull a few random bills from a pile of money before discarding it while Gibbs carefully counted the money as he placed it into the sack.

"9,980. 9,990. 10,000. Wrap it up," Gibbs announced twenty minutes later as he threw the last bill into the bag.

"Very good Agent Gibbs!" he heard a voice croon from behind him. Gibbs spun around at the sound of Mason's voice.

Mason had entered the room, gun drawn. He and another accomplice were standing behind Kenzie and Franks, using the law enforcement as human shields. Both Kenzie and Franks were tightly bound and gagged, and neither of them looked happy to be in their current positions.

Ziva who was standing slightly out of Mason's line of sight, subtly bent, reaching for her gun.

"I wouldn't, Miss David," Mason barked, suspecting the Mossad assassin's intentions. "Why don't you and _Agent _DiNozzo throw out your guns, and come out of the vault with your hands raised, instead? It'll do your friends some good." He poked his gun sharply into Kenzie's kidney, causing him to let out a small cry of pain.

Tony's heart sank as he recognized his partner's tone. He glanced at Ziva, who nodded her unhappy disapproval. They bent slowly and placed their guns on the floor, sliding them out of the vault before exiting with hands up.

"You too, Agent Gibbs," Mason crooned. Gibbs raised himself to his feet, despite the sudden throbbing in his bad knee which unfortunately had stiffened while he had been counting the money.

Mason paused and turned his head slightly to look into the hallway. He grinned widely, returning his gaze to the room. Tony, Gibbs and Ziva only had a moment to wonder about what was making Mason so joyful before Ricky hurled an unconscious body into the room. McGee crashed to the floor, bleeding from a large cut above his ear. Ricky, who was grinning as well, took his place beside Mason and trained McGee's gun on Team Gibbs.

Mason and the unnamed associate shoved Kenzie and Franks forward so they were aligned with their friends. Mason began to cackle evilly as he stared at the group lined up infront of him.

"Now, let the fun begin."

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Reviews always appreciated!_


	8. Chapter 8

_T-minus eleven days until the finale!_

_If you are interested, the first promo is up on YouTube (gotta love Tony and McGee): _Community (.) livejournal (.) com (/) spoilersforncis (/) 152699 (.) html

* * *

Mason motioned with his gun toward the standing NCIS agents.

"Take out your handcuffs and cuff yourselves together."

"You _are _kidding, right?" Tony asked incredulously, shooting the unconscious McGee a concerned look. The cut didn't look too bad, but Probie was going to have a helluva headache when he woke.

"I think she would rather find a new way to kill me then handcuff the two of us together. Remember how well that went last time, Zee-vah?" With each step, he was moving farther away from Gibbs, Franks and Kenzie and marginally closer to the perpetrators.

"It was your fault you didn't pinch in the code correctly!" she retorted fiercely as she realized Tony's plan.

"It's _punch_, Ziva. Would it kill you to get an idiom right? You think I enjoy spending my days correcting your English?"

"Then why do you?" Ziva fired back, raising her voice. "It drives me crazy! It doesn't matter what I say, you insist I say it wrong, _even _when I'm right! I hope you will desist before I decide to do something drastic."

"Like what?" Out of the corner of his eye, Tony saw Gibbs creep toward Franks and Kenzie and slip out his knife. Rule number nine was going to save the day again. "Beat me to death with a credit card? I'd love to see that," he scoffed.

"Oh, Tony, you have no idea. I have wonderfully painful ideas that I have yet to test on humans. You can be the first," Ziva stood right in Tony's personal space and poked his chest emphatically.

"Yeah, right. _You_'re going to take _me_ down? That I'd love to see."

Gibbs carefully slid the knife down his forearm, keeping it out of Mason's sight. With barely perceptible movements, he began sawing at the bonds around Franks' wrists.

"Keep going, DiNozzo, and you'll be lying on the ground, screaming 'uncle' before you know it."

"Glory be!" Tony raised his arms and looked heavenward. "You got an idiom right! Let me record the date and time cos I'm pretty sure it won't happen again. You object to my submitting this to the Guinness Book of World Records?"

With a final cut, Franks was free. He caught the ropes and slipped them into his back pocket before they could fall to the ground. Franks rubbed his hands together for a few seconds to return the circulation before Gibbs silently slipped his boss the knife, and shuffled over to his original position. Franks began slicing Kenzie's bonds when Ricky's attention shifted to Tony and Ziva's quarrel.

"You are such as pain in the ass! A constant thorn in my side!" Ziva continued as she and Tony crept closer and closer to the criminals.

"She's learning…Something's wrong! It's not the Apocalypse is it?" Tony turned questioningly to Mason. "I thought we had until 2012…John Cusak stared, Roland Emmerich directed. I think Danny Glover even had a cameo. Absolutely phenomenal film."

"Shut up!" Mason cried, fed up with the childish bickering. He knew DiNozzo was a loudmouth, but even this was a stretch for the supposedly competent cop turned fed. "I can't stand this anymore!"

"Try listening to it everyday," Gibbs remarked off-handedly as he came up behind Mason's third accomplice and grabbed his gun hand. The accomplice automatically tightened his finger on the trigger, discharging three successive rounds into the ceiling. Franks crossed the room in two large steps and drove his fist into the man's stomach. As he doubled over and released his grip on the gun, Franks released a haymaker that rendered the man senseless before he hit the floor.

When Mason and Ricky turned to see the source of the noise, Tony and Ziva attacked. Tony tackled Mason while Ziva executed a perfect roundhouse kick to Ricky's hand. The gun went flying from Ricky's senseless fingers, sliding toward Mason and Tony. In her peripheral vision, Ziva saw Franks grab the gun and train it on the unconscious criminal as she followed her kick with a solid punch to Ricky's face.

The man recovered faster than Ziva had though possible, catching her retreating fist between his forearms. He lifted his foot ready to deliver a vicious kick of his own, but Ziva twisted out of the way, her free leg sweeping Ricky's one planted leg out from under him and knocking him to the floor.

Ricky released Ziva's arm, his arms flailing wildly in an attempt to catch his balance. Ziva pivoted, and launched one final kick that landed with enough force to send Ricky crashing into the wall, his head smacking against the safety deposit boxes. Ziva remained slightly crouched with her fists raised, ready to deliver another crushing blow, but Ricky remained motionless on the floor.

Meanwhile, Tony's tackle had sent him and Mason out of the vault and into the small hallway. Tony grabbed Mason's gun hand, struggling to keep it pointed away from himself. With a snarl, Mason kneed Tony viciously in the stomach. Somehow, Tony managed to maintain his grip on the gun as the air was cruelly forced from his lungs. Seeing his opening, Mason released the gun with left hand, driving his elbow into Tony's jaw.

Stars danced in front of his face as Tony lost control of his body, releasing his tenuous grip on the gun. Mason pulled himself into a standing position, using his foot to roll Tony onto his back. Planting his foot firmly on Tony's chest, he trained his gun on the fed.

Through the impressive Technicolor display that clouded his vision, Tony saw a steel barrel being pointed at him. He grabbed Mason's foot with both hands, attempting to throw it off of him, but from his current position on the ground, he didn't have the leverage.

"I should have done this long ago," Mason hissed, increasing the pressure on Tony's ribcage. Tony began to panic as Mason cocked the weapon. He thrashed wildly, trying to extricate himself from the psycho. Mason only cackled loudly as he closed one eye and took aim at the area between Tony's eyes.

Tony met Mason's gaze, trying to keep his fear out of his expression. He had never thought he'd go out like this! Not that he had thought about it, but he was hoping for something on par with Kevin Costner's dramatic exit in _The_ _Guardian_, or Will Smith's demise in _I Am Legend_, not lying on the ground gasping like an asthmatic.

Mason's grin widened as his finger tightened around the trigger. Suddenly, he lurched backward as a large crashing noise was heard. Tony summoned his remaining energy to roll out of the way, but with a final sway Mason collapsed on top on him, a large knife sticking out of his back.

Kenzie quickly rolled his captor off his former partner, unnecessarily checking for the carotid pulse. He stood again, once again standing over his injured partner, looking down at Tony with a concerned expression.

"Don't you get…tireduv…lookin' at me…like that?" Tony wheezed as he pulled himself into a sitting position.

"You should just be glad I came along when I did, or there'd be little pieces of Tony DiNozzo scattered into the next county."

"What's it now…56-55?" Tony attempted to quip breezily as he drew fresh air into his aching lungs.

"I think it's 56-56. Remember in '02 when you took a swan dive off the pier to recover the murder weapon?"

"You're counting that?" Tony asked incredulously. "The current may've been…a little stronger than I had expected…but that didn't warrant—"

"You're forgetting how I had to jump in and drag your skinny ass to safety. It counts," Kenzie declared while grinning at his friend who was at a loss for words.

They sat in silence for a moment until Tony was able to breathe normally. As his vision cleared, Tony looked over at Mason's prone form, glad the bastard had finally gotten what he'd deserved.

"You look terrible, man," Tony remarked as he hauled himself to his feet, reaching out for the nearest wall when his legs threatened to give out. He shook off Kenzie's outstretched hand and walked back into the vault of his own accord.

"You're no Al Pacino yourself," Kenzie shot back as he inspected the damage. Ricky was still unconscious but was lying on his stomach with his hands cuffed behind his back. Ziva was standing not far away, her eyes never leaving Ricky's person. The other man had regained consciousness as was lying in the same position as Ricky, shooting daggers at Gibbs and Franks who stood over him with their guns pointed at his head.

"Check on McGee," Gibbs ordered as he saw his Senior Field Agent walk into the vault.

Gibbs gave Tony a questioning look, silently asking about Mason; Tony's only response was a curt nod. _Guess the boss was right about one thing_, Gibbs thought,_ the no paperwork method sure was a lot easier. _

It did not escape his notice how slowly and stiffly Tony moved as he gingerly lowered himself to the ground next to McGee.

"McGee," Tony called softly, gently shaking the younger man's shoulder as Kenzie went over to introduce himself to Ziva. McGee woke with a start, throwing a punch in response to what was likely an unpleasant dream. Tony threw himself backwards in the nick of time, feeling McGee's fist whistle past his ear.

"What gives, Muhammed Ali? I know I can be annoying—sometimes—but I don't think I deserve that," Tony said as he leaned back on his hands and caught his breath for the second time in three minutes.

McGee's eyes flew open. They looked around blankly for a moment until his memory returned. He looked at his outstretched fist and his gaze flew to his partner.

"Oh, god, Tony! I'm so sorry!"

"Gibbs would head-slap you if he heard you say that," Tony replied with a quick glance toward his boss. Gibbs returned the glance, acknowledging that he had heard the infraction of rule six. The Lead Agent decided to let that one slide: besides the fact that McGee was out of head-slapping range, it had been a very unusual case for his team and it was a well known fact that the rules didn't necessarily apply in the field.

"Yeah, but Tony! You're my partner," McGee continued.

"It's okay, Tim," Tony replied honestly, seeing McGee relax slightly. "This time."

McGee froze, afraid to hear what was coming next.

"If you ever do that while you're fully conscious, I will strap you to a chair and make you watch every aired episode of _The Jerry Springer Show_. Comprende?"

"Got it," McGee gulped audibly bringing a wide grin to Tony's face.

"Ah, come on, Probie. It couldn't be that bad…" Tony straightened up and offered a hand to McGee who gratefully accepted.

"McGee," Gibbs called. "Call prison transport for two. Give Ducky and Palmer a call as well. They've got a new body to dissect."

"Yes, boss," McGee pulled his iPhone from his pocket and left the vault in search of better reception.

Kenzie walked over to Tony.

"You wouldn't really make him watch _all_ those episodes, would you?"

"Kenzie, I don't even know where to look to _buy _a season of that terrible show. But if you tell McGee that, I'll tell everyone in the squad room who superglued Franco's door closed."

Kenzie's eyes narrowed. "You have no proof!"

"Well, it sure wasn't me, though I probably would have eventually if you hadn't beaten me to it."

"And you wonder why the Cap'n let you transfer to NCIS…"

"TOONNNYYY!" Abby dashed through the door and smothered Tony in a tight vice.

"I'm so glad you're okay! I was so worried about you. And Gibbs. And Ziva. And McGee too. I couldn't wait any longer. After McGee and Ziva left, I clocked out and drove up here as fast as I could. Not Gibbs- or Ziva-fast, but still pretty fast. I'm a whiz with the double clutch and people tend to pull over when they see a hearse barreling down the highway at eighty miles an hour," the Goth cried. Over Abby's shoulder, Tony saw Kenzie raised his eyebrows slightly in surprise.

"I think you'd better let him go before you give him an aneurysm," the Baltimore cop suggested as he saw Tony's face began to turn tomato red.

"Oh." Abby released Tony and hopped backwards while continuing to examine her friend for obvious signs of injury. Deciding he relatively uninjured, she socked him in the arm.

"What was that for?" Tony cried, rubbing his now throbbing upper arm.

"For checking yourself out of the hospital AMA. Of course, I know why you did it, but that doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Your health is much too important to take lightly."

"Did Ducky tell you to say that?"

"Yeah, but I was feeling the same way," she conceded. Her mission done, she turned to Kenzie and mentally appraised him.

"And _who_ are _you_?" she asked, fixing Kenzie with her most charismatic smile.

"Mike Kenzie, ma'am…What?" Kenzie asked, seeing both Tony and Abby cringe.

"Don't call her ma'am," Tony advised his friend. "It's safer that way."

"Abigail Scuito, forensics extraordinaire at your service." Abby announced as she held out her hand to Kenzie, who laid a gentle kiss on it. Grinning wildly, she looked back at Tony in astonishment.

"You never told me your old partner was such a gentleman."

Kenzie gently turned Abby around before Tony could respond. "Are you the same Abigail Scuito that cracked the Mason case?" Abby nodded enthusiastically in response, completely taken by the charming gentleman in front of her.

"Tony's told me so much about you! I was dying to go to D.C. for the Mason case—wanted to see if NCIS was really all that great—but Franco got it in his thick head that I should stay in Baltimore to handle the ongoing investigation. Don't worry though! I got my revenge…" he trailed off, sharing a conspiratorial grin with Tony.

"It was pretty sweet," Tony recalled as Gibbs and Ziva walked over, leaving Franks to guard the two accomplices.

"What're you doing here Abs?"

"Gibbs! Ziva!" Abby enclosed first Gibbs then Ziva in abbreviated versions of Tony's hug. "I was so worried about you guys! I heard you had to rob a bank and was concerned for a minute, but then I remembered Tony's probably seen about a hundred heist movies, so I was pretty sure you were set…And then Ducky told me that Mason was behind all this and I immediately called Sister Rosita. She and her sisters have been saying the rosary for the last few hours on your guys' behalf."

"How'd you know where we were?" McGee asked. He had been wandering the hallway looking for a decent cell phone signal but had returned after hearing the loud shouting emitting from the vault.

"Tony's tracker, of course," Abby answered.

"Speaking of the tracker, where is it exactly?" Tony asked cautiously.

"I'm not telling you, DiNozzo, or you'll have it removed. Just know it's somewhere safe and secure."

"That's what I'm afraid of. My own personal Big Brother," Tony grumbled as he turned out his pants pockets before examined the insides of his shoes.

"You'll never find it, Tony. Just give up. It's a lost clause," Ziva interjected, an amused expression on her face.

"_Cause_. It's a lost cause," Tony stopped searching his clothes and turned to face Ziva. "I meant what I said about the Guinness Book of World Records. They have to have a category for most idioms missed in a five year period—"

Tony yelped as Gibbs' hand connected with the back of his head.

"What was that for?"

"We have a crime scene to process," Gibbs stated firmly.

"Yes, boss." Tony walked halfway across the room before turning back to face Gibbs. "Um…what exactly am I supposed to use to take pictures?"

Abby removed the duffel she had slung over one shoulder and handed it to him. "Clearly you were never a Boy Scout, Tony."

"Wow, Abby. You too? First, Mason poisoned me and Gibbs fixed me with the Death Glare multiple times before Ducky yelled at me for leaving the hospital and Ziva invented a new way to kill me, _then _McZombie almost socked me in the jaw, and now _you_ are going to make jokes about my childhood?" He turned around to face Kenzie. "My old job in Baltimore still available?"

"Yeah," Kenzie said without taking his eyes off of Abby and Ziva. "We could trade places. I could use the change of scenery…"

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned.

"On it, boss." Sighing heavily, Tony grabbed the camera from the makeshift forensics kit and went out in the hallway to photograph Mason's corpse. Abby followed him, continuing to babble about how Sister Rosita remembered when Tony had procured the ankle brace for her and was saying every prayer she possible knew to ensure his safety.

The next hour was a whirl of activity as prison transport arrived and took Ricky and his partner Joshua into custody. Ducky and Palmer arrived not long after Abby, performing the preliminary examination of Mason before lifting him onto the gurney and locking him into the back of the van.

Despite their attempts to dissuade medical attention, Kenzie, Franks and Tony were examined by the EMTs. Given only a suggestion for a few days of light duty, Tony had jumped out of the ambulance as soon as the doctor gave him the all-clear, leaving Kenzie and Franks in the mini-examining room. Gibbs was standing outside the vehicle since there had not been room in the ambulance for the four of them plus the EMT.

Franks looked up from the pretty trainee who was examining him to met Gibbs' stare. In that instant, a wealth of information was shared: thanks were conveyed and welcomes received.

"You did good, Probie," Franks replied honestly after a long while. Another moment of silence passed between the two again before Franks spoke up again.

"Layla was wondering what you were doing for Christmas. Amira's almost five now and she taken to telling us daily how much she misses her godfather…"

"I tell you what, boss. You stop answering calls from raving lunatics who say I'm gravely injured or dead and we'll see about my visiting for the holidays."

"You drive a tough bargain, Probie. But I accept," Franks conceded as he gently lowered himself down from the ambulance.

"Oh, and my flight here was sort-of a one way deal, so…"

"You can stay at my house for a few days. Could use the help sanding the new slats."

"Another boat, Probie? Jeez. Didn't you learn your lesson after the last one?"

"Nope."

"Stubborn bastard."

"Learned from the best," Gibbs responded with a half-grin as Franks walked away to speak with Abby.

Gibbs was about to leave when he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. Kenzie was still sitting in the back of the ambulance, waiting for a private moment to speak to Gibbs.

"Tony's got a good thing going here," Kenzie began, "I haven't seen him this happy in a long time and I know he owes that all to you. Tony's a great partner; it was hard to have someone else as a partner when he left. Under that goofy exterior, he's got a heart of gold and is fiercely loyal to his friends, sometimes to a fault."

"Ya think?" Gibbs said, remembering when Ziva had been framed for bombing a coffee shops, when McGee had accidentally shot a cop and when Ziva had been suspected of being in league with Rivkin. Each time, Tony had worked unceasingly, usually in violation of rule eleven, until the truth was revealed or his friends were cleared.

"He's one of the best," Kenzie continued.

"I know," Gibbs replied honestly.

"I know it's been ten years, but the same principle still applies. If I find out he got Marine-d to death or gets crushed by that boat you're supposed to be building, I will drive down here and make your life a living hell. And trust me, _I _learned from the best in that department."

Gibbs nodded affirmatively.

Kenzie hopped out of the ambulance and held out his hand to Gibbs.

"Thanks for all you've done for us. If you ever need anything…"

"I'll call," Gibbs replied. He reached into his pocket and pulled out Catherine's rhinestone encrusted cell phone.

"There something you wanna tell me, Agent Gibbs?" Kenzie asked, eyeing the sparkling device.

"We borrowed it from a girl on the subway. Her address is on the back. Think you can return it to her?"

"I'll see what I can do," Kenzie's face broke into a smile that rivaled Tony's own as he accepted the cell phone and headed off to help his former partner. As the prison transport pulled away followed by the coroner's van, Gibbs was struck with déjà vu.

_It was the morning after Mason had been arrested. Gibbs and Backladder walked into BPD headquarters, maneuvering their way through the crowded squad room to Detective DiNozzo's desk._

_Tony was reclining in his chair, his feet resting on the ledge of his desk and his hands clasped behind his head, eyes closed. He cracked open one eye as he heard Gibbs approaching._

"_That your incident report?" he asked._

_Gibbs nodded. Tony cocked his head slightly and squinted at Gibbs as if he was trying to understand what drove the older man to continue to do his job. Gibbs smiled internally, pleased he was puzzling the young detective._

_Tony's mock examination was interrupted by Gibbs' ringing cell._

_The Lead Agent walked briskly away from the squad room to an empty hallway._

"_Director."_

"_Agent Gibbs. Were you able to make the charges stick against Mason?"_

"_He confessed to the entire robbery after his fiancé was killed, sir," Gibbs reported._

"_Good. Good." Director Morrow stated before falling quiet._

"_Sir? What's going on?"_

"_Burley was sent to do threat assessments with the crew of the _Enterprise. _The COB was so impressed with his investigative skills that he's personally requested Burley for his Agent Afloat. Burley had accepted and tendered his resignation from his team. You're going to need a new agent."_

_Gibbs looked through the glass door at DiNozzo who was now sitting upright, gesticulating wildly as he shared a Baltimore cop story with Backladder who looked absolutely appalled. _

"_I got just the one."_

* * *

_And so that's the end of _Atonement! _ I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it!_

_Thanks to everyone who read, alerted, favorited or reviewed! It was such a joy to hear your wonderful responses to this story. I have the best reviewers on the entire website, hands down! You guys are awesome! :)_

_Since this _is _an NCIS story, I'll leave you with a movie quote: "It's not goodbye—I hate goodbyes—it's just see ya later!"_

_Always,_

_usa123_


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